LOVE  AND  LIBERTY 


H  IRomance  of  Hntf*Slax>ers 


BY 

WILLIAM  CAPRON  TOWNSEND 


THE 

Hbbey  press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 
FIFTH   AVENUE 

OLon&on  NEW  YORK          Montreal 


Copyright,  IQOI, 

by 
THE 

press 


TO  MY 

/iDotber 

WHO   EARLY 
TURNED   MY  FEET   INTO   RIGHT   PATHS, 

AND    INSPIRED    ME 
WITH  A   LOVE   FOR  FREEDOM   AND   RIGHTEOUSNESS, 

THIS 

FIRST  VOLUME  FROM  MY  PEN 
IS  AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED   BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


.PTER  PAGE 

ACKNOWLEDGMENT , 7 

I.  James 9 

II.  Virtues  and  Defects 12 

III.  An  Enemy 14 

IV.  How  Bill  got  Even 19 

V.  The  Rescue 22 

VI.  A  Visit  to  Boston 25 

VII.  Ruth 32 

VIII.  Happiness 36 

IX.  The  Abolitionists 39 

X.  Sorrow 44 

XI.  Glentown 49 

XII.  Rachel 57 

XIII.  Frank  Noble  at  Home 62 

XIV.  Samuel 66 

XV.  The  House  in  the  Woodland 69 

XVI.  The  Fugitives 73 

XVII.  After  the  Storm 79 

XVIII.  An  Old  Acquaintance 90 

XIX.  Up  the  Adirondacks 95 

XX.  John  Brown 99 

XXI.  Marion  and  Ada 102 

XXII.  The  Ball 106 

XXIII.  New  Faces 109 

XXIV.  How  it  all  Ended  . . ._ 114 

XXV.  The  Wedding 117 

3 


4  Contents. 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XXVI.  What  They  Said  About  it 119 

XXVII.  The  Coming  of  the  Lord 123 

XXVIII.  Frederick  Douglass 131 

XXIX.  Sojourner  Truth 139 

XXX.  A  Plan  which  Succeeded 142 

XXXI.  Trouble  in  Keene 148 

XXXII.  How  Marion  Came  Home 156 

XXXIII.  The    Duel 160 

XXXIV.  The  Development  of  the  Struggle 164 

XXX  V.  Seaview 169 

XXXVI.  The  Haunted  House 176 

XXXVII.  The  Mysterious  Letter 182 

XXXVIII.  Explanations 188 

XXXIX.  Old  Friends 193 

X  L.  Rachel  and  Clifford 202 

XI, I.  Stirring  Times 207 

XLII.  Rachel  and  her  Friends 216 

XLIII.  The  Murder...    221 

XLIV.  Black  Jack  and  Osawatomie 225 

XLV.  The  Western  Orator 234 

XLVI.  Horace  at  Seaview 238 

XLVII.  Who  Was  the  Murderer? 245 

XLVIII.  What  Rachel  Said 251 

XLIX.  Purgatory 256 

I,.  At  the  Academy 261 

LI.  Harper's  Ferry 268 

LI  I.  The  News  at  Glentown 277 

LI  IT.  Boarding  School  Life 281 

LI V.  The  Shadow  of  Death 293 

LV.   Horace  at  Home 305 

LVI.  The  Man  of  the  Hour 312 

LVII.  Shadow  and  Sunshine 325 

LVI II.  The  Irrepressible  Conflict 335 

LIX.  A  Woman's  Heart '. 348 


Contents.  5 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

LX.  The  New  Man  at  the  Helm 358 

LXI.  A  Woman's  Love  is  Mighty 367 

LXII.  The  Call  to  Arms 376 

LXIII.  Commencement  at  Seaview 384 

LXIV.  The  Storm  of  War 394 

LXV.  Bill  and  Nance  Again , 406 

LX VI.  Defeat  and  Death 413 

LXVII.  The  Lost  Relative 428 

LXVIII.  In  the  Hospital 439 

LXIX.  The  Man  in  the  White  House 452 

LXX.  Antietam 462 

LXXI.  Under  the  Silent  Stars 471 

LXXII.  Freedom  at  Last 486 

LXXIII.  Marriage  Bells 491 

LXXIV.  Later  Years .497 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

IN  the  preparation  of  this  volume,  the  author  has  ex 
amined  a  large  part  of  the  literature  of  the  anti-slavery 
movement.  To  give  a  full  list  of  these  books  would  not 
appear  to  be  necessary.  The  author,  however,  deems  it 
just  to  acknowledge  indebtedness  to  the  following  named 
works  in  the  use  of  historical  facts  and  descriptions : 
"  The  American  Conflict,"  Greeley ;  "  History  of  the 
Civil  War,"  J..S.  C.  Abbott;  "The  Underground  Rail 
road,"  William  Still ;  "  Autobiography  of  Frederick  Doug 
lass,"  "  Speeches  of  Wendell  Phillips,"  and  Redpath's 
"  Life  of  John  Brown." 

He  also  has  received  courteous  permission,  through 
the  publishers  or  authors,  to  use  material  important  to 
the  development  of  this  story,  from  the  following  named 
sources :  The  full  and  authentic  biography  of  the  Hero 
of  Kansas  and  Virginia,  "  Life  and  Letters  of  John 
Brow7n,"  F.  B.  Sanborn,  Concord,  Mass.  (Boston,  Lit 
tle  &  Brown)  ;  "  Abraham  Lincoln,  A  history,"  Nicolay 
and  Hay  (The  Century  Co.)  "Twelve  Decisive  Battles 
of  the  War,"  William  Swinton  (Dick  and  Fitzgerald,  N. 
Y.)  ;  "  William  Lloyd  Garrison  and  His  Times,"  Oliver 
Johnson  (B.  B.  Russell,  Boston);  "My  Story  of  the 
War,"  Mrs.  Mary  A.  Livennore  (A.  D.  Worthington 
&  Co.,  Hartford,  Conn.);  "Life  of  Charles  Sumner," 
Anna  L.  Dawes  (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.,  N.  Y.)  ;  "  Daniel 
Webster,"  Henry  C.  Lodge  (Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co., 
Boston);  "Our  First  Century."  R.  W.  Devens  (C.  A. 
Nichols  &  Co.,  Springfield,  Mass.)  "  Inside  the  White 
House,"  William  O.  Stoddard  (Chas.  L.  Webster  &  Co., 
N.  Y.)  "From  Pioneer  Home  to  the  White  House," 
Wm.  M.  Thayer  (James  H.  Earle,  Boston)  ;  and  an 


8  Acknowledgment. 

article  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  on  "  Sojourner  Truth," 
by  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

The  author  also  expresses  his  gratitude  to  Rev.  F.  S. 
Townsend,  A.  M.,  of  Buckhannon,  West  Virginia,  and 
Rev.  R.  E.  Bisbee,  A.  M.,  of  Milford,  Mass.,  for 
critical  examination  of  his  manuscript  and  valuable  sug 
gestions  concerning  the  same. 

WILLIAM  CAPRON  TOWNSEND. 
GREENFIELD,  MASS. 


LOVE  AND  LIBERTY." 


CHAPTER  I. 

JAMES. 

IN  the  southern  part  of  New  England  there  is  an  old- 
fashioned  country  town  where  a  baby  boy  was  born  in 
1811. 

It  could  not  be  truthfully  said  that  the  mother,  like 
Hannah  of  Bible  fame,  prayed  for  his  birth,  for  the  boy 
was  not  welcome ;  nevertheless,  as  he  lay  in  his  mother's 
lap,  with  his  soft  velvet  cheeks  and  beautiful  blue  eyes, 
the  mother-heart  throbbed  with  joy,  in  spite  of  the  sor 
row  that  was  in  her  life.  The  father  was  dissipated  and 
profligate,  and  soon  forsook  his  wife  and  child.  Some 
years  the  mother  struggled  on  as  best  she  could,  caring 
for  her  babe.  When  six  years  of  age,  he  was  placed 
with  a  well-to-do  farmer  of  the  town  called  Cap'n 
Spencer,  who  also  kept  the  country  store. 

"  Little  Jim  "  was  a  bright,  active  boy,  usually  full  of 
fun  and  mirth,  though  as  he  grew  older  often  sad  because 
of  his  misfortunes. 

He  was  of  medium  size  with  yellowish  hair,  which 
gave  him  the  name  of  "  tow-head."  Withal  there  was  a 
cheerful  element  in  his  nature,  though  his  life  was  one  of 
deprivation  and  hardship. 

He  had  enough  food  such  as  it  was,  but  his  clothes 
were  few  and  coarse. 

In  winter  he  attended  the  "  deestrict  "  school,  where 
he  soon  excelled  all  the  pupils. 

He  stood  at  the  head  of  the  spelling  class  almost  from 
the  first,  and  ciphered  as  far  as  "  the  rule  of  three,"  in 
Daboll's  arithmetic,  long  before  the  time  allotted  for  that 

9 


io  Love  and  Liberty. 

remarkable  accomplishment.  A  great  love  for  books  dis 
tinguished  him,  and 

»  "  By  hook  and  by  crook, 

He  managed  to  read  full  many  a  book." 

His  work,  however,  was  hard  and  constant,  with  few 
privileges,  while  severe  punishments  would  often  follow 
trifling  offenses. 

Notwithstanding,  he  lived  through  it  all,  and  always 
retained  considerable  respect  for  his  foster-father,  who 
probably  meant  to  do  the  fair  thing  by  the  unfortunate 
boy. 

When  twenty-one,  with  his  "  freedom  suit,"  and  a  few 
dollars  in  money,  James  Fuller  started  out  in  life  to  seek 
his  fortune.  The  memory  of  the  old  town  always  re 
mained  with  him. 

The  old  farmhouses  with  ranging  meadows,  the  green 
pastures  covered  with  flocks  and  herds,  the  stately  wood 
lands  in  the  distance,  and  the  laughing,  gurgling  brook, 
where  the  speckled  trout  leaped  and  played.  There  were 
also  the  dilapidated  blacksmith's  shop  and  saw-mill,  both 
replaced  in  later  years  by  better  buildings  upon  the  same 
sites,  and  the  country  store  where  the  people  came  to 
'"  barter "  their  farming  products  for  dry  goods  and 
groceries. 

The  store  was  a  lounging  place,  where  men  spent  their 
evenings  in  social  gossip,  with  many  a  "  yarn  "  of  other 
days  and  lands. 

When  the  railroad  came,  great  was  the  wonder  of  the 
people. 

"  They  do  say,  Cap'n,"  said  Sam  Smith,  "  a  new 
fangled  road  is  coming  thro'  here." 

Cap'n  Spencer  replied,  "  So  I  understand.  In  fact,  I 
sold  a  man  some  land  to-day  for  that  purpose." 

"  We've  heered  'bout  these  new  roads  roun'  the  kentry, 
but  I  d'clare,  I  never  thought  they'd  strike  Wilksville." 

"  It  looks  like  that  now,"  responded  the  Cap'n,  "  and 
more'n  that,  it's  going  to  be  a  great  convenience." 

This  conversation  occurred  years  after  James  had  left 
the  place. 


James.  n 

Sure  enough,  they  found  the  railroad  a  great  conve 
nience,  and  when  the  telegraph  was  added,  the  country 
folks  gathered  to  see  the  messages  go  by  on  the  wires  and 
returned  home  disappointed.  Yet  to-day  Wilksville  ap 
preciates  all  the  advantages  of  railroad  and  telegraph. 

All  the  old-time  residents  when  ''  little  Jim  "  lived  in 
Wilksville  have  passed  away,  and  the  old  burying  ground 
has  many  tombstones  which  mention  die  worlcLy  fame 
and  excellent  virtues  of  the  departed. 

Younger  generations  occupy  the  old  farms,  and  inherit 
some  of  the  peculiarities  of  their  ancestors.  They  go  up 
to  the  great  city  on  the  railroad,  and  send  their  messages 
with  lightning  speed  along  the  innocent-looking  wires. 
Cap'n  Spencer  and  Sam  Smith  both  sleep  the  long  sleep 
in  the  country  graveyard,  but  the  birds  carol  merrily 
and  sweetly  above  their  graves. 


12  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  II. 

VIRTUES    AND   DEFECTS. 

JAMES  FULLER  at  twenty-one  was  good-looking,  so  all 
the  girls  of  the  section  said.  He  was  just  above  the  aver 
age  height,  with  broad  shoulders,  a  high  forehead,  brown 
hair,  remarkable  blue  eyes  and  a  fair  complexion. 

In  spite  of  all  his  disadvantages,  he  had  an  appearance 
of  more  than  ordinary  intelligence. 

He  was  emotional,  easily  stirred  to  laughter  or  tears, 
honest  and  truthful,  with  a  fairly  good  voice  for  song, 
and  a  nature  strongly  opposed  to  injustice  and  oppres 
sion  in  every  form.  Never  could  he  quietly  see  any  one 
wronged  or  abused,  and  tnis  element  in  his  character, 
combined  \  i.h  an  excitable  temper  sometimes,  as  we  shall 
see,  led  him  into  trouble. 

He  loved  kindness  and  goodness,  and  sought  to  fol 
low  the  "  Golden  Rule,"  and  was  honest  to  such  a  degree 
that  he  would  tell  the  truth  to  his  own  disadvantage. 

His  defects  wrere  partly  inherited,  and  partly  resulted 
from  the  lack  of  early  training. 

His  excitable  temper  was  almost  proverbial  in  the  com 
munity.  In  a  moment  of  passionate  fury,  he  would  say 
sharp,  cutting  words,  and  often,  under  the  influence  of 
these  strange  spells,  do  things  which  aroused  the  fear  of 
friend  and  foe ;  but  his  anger  would  soon  be  over,  and 
none  knowing  him  would  hold  anything  against  the  fiery 
youth  whose  heart  and  mind  were  ever  susceptible  to  the 
tenderest  emotions,  and  whose  soul  thrilled  with  the  de 
lineation  of  every  noble  impulse  and  heroic  deed. 

His  self-esteem  would  also  sometimes  appear  to  his 
hurt,  and  he  was  ambitious.  James  knew  his  limitations, 
and  yet,  friendless  and  poor,  had  aspirations  after 
higher  things.  Like  Demosthenes,  who  discoursed  on  the 
sea-shore  with  pebbles  in  his  mouth  to  improve  his  speech^ 


Virtues  and  Defects.  13 

so  James  in  early  manhood  would  make  attempts  at  ora 
tory  in  the  forest,  and  wrote  rhymes,  which  he  called 
poetry,  and  recited  these  to  a  few  of  his  friends. 

These  thing's,  however,  did  not  add  to  his  popularity 
with  those  who  knew  him. 

"  Jim  Fuller  feels  too  mighty  big,"  was  the  comment 
sometimes  heard  even  by  those  whom  he  regarded  as 
friends.  He  was  handicapped  from  birth,  and  the  course 
of  his  life  was  such  as  often  to  discourage  and  dishearten 
him,  though,  as  the  reader  will  discover,  he  did  not  wholly 
abandon  literary  pursuits. 

His  mother  had  told  him  what  little  he  knew  of  his 
ancestry. 

There  was  Puritan  blood  in  his  veins ;  his  ancestor, 
Samuel  Fuller,  came  over  in  the  Mayflower,  and  was 
buried  in  the  old  Plymouth  burying  ground,  and  the 
family  record  contained  the  names  of  many  men  and 
women  who  had  wrought  well  in  the  cause  of  humanity. 

James  listened  with  glowing  cheeks,  his  ambition 
stirred.  Many  years  later,  he  visited  old  Plymouth, 
stood  upon  the  Rock,  where  the  Forefathers  first  landed, 
went  into  the  old  burying  ground,  to  Pilgrim  Hall,  and 
then  to  Faith  Monument,  where  he  saw  his  ancestor's 
name,  "  Samuel  Fuller,"  cut  in  the  granite  shaft,  which 
commemorates  those 

"  Immortal  names,  which  were  not  born  to  die." 

When  James  reached  his  majority,  he  had  no  home 
ties.  His  mother  had  been  dead  several  years  ;  his  father 
never  returned ;  there  were  an  older  brother  and  sister 
somewhere,  whom  he  had  seen  a  few  times,  but  they  had 
no  regular  correspondence  with  him,  and  could  do  noth 
ing  for  him.  He  was  alone  and  must  work  his  own  way 
in  the  world. 

He  obtained  a  position  as  "  Boss  "  farmer  for  Judge 
Slocum  on  a  large  farm  in  the  adjoining  town,  where  he 
remained  several  years. 


14  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  III 

AN    ENEMY. 

"  How  are  ye,  Bob  Briggs?  Got  somethin'  to  tell  ye." 

"What's  up?" 

"  Goin'  ter  have  a  party,  Monday  night,  over  to  Joe 
Slocum's." 

"  Who's  goin'?  " 

"  All  the  boys  and  gals.  We're  in  for  a  frolic.  Lame 
Simon's  got  a  invite,  an'  we  fellers  show  him  up  'cause 
he  made  love  to  Sue  Sloctmi." 

"What  of  it?" 

"  What  of  it  ?  Ye  s'pose  we're  goin'  to  'low  that 
sneakin'  scamp  think  he's  so  all-fired  smart?  No,  sir- 
ree;  we'll  take  him  down  a  peg  or  tew,  just  bet  yer 
boots." 

"  O  let  him  alone,  Bill  Jenks,  he  ain't  no  'count." 

"  I  tell  ye,  we'll  see  'bout  his  'count  and  don't  ye  for- 
git  it." 

'  Take  a  man  that  can  hold  his  own  with  ye,  Bill.  Let 
Sime  alone.  B'sides  what's  he  ever  did  to  you  ?  " 

"  Did  to  me?  Called  me  a  lazy  fool,  and  he'll  pay  for 
it,  see  if  he  don't." 

"  C)  hush  up,  Bill,  all  the  fellers  knows  ye  won't  work 
if  ye  kin  help  it." 

''  Shut  up  yer  head,  yer  darned  rascal,  or  I'll  give  ye  a 
black  eye." 

Bob  Briggs  laughed  in  his  face.  He  had  seen  Bill 
Jenks  before.  He  knew  he  was  all  bluster,  and  had  no 
more  fear  of  him  than  of  a  ten-year-old  boy.  Bill  was 
a  fellow  about  twenty-two  years  old,  of  rather  doubtful 
reputation,  who  had  worked  this  summer  at  Judge 
Slocum's  farm,  where  James  Fuller  was  Boss  farmer. 

He  was  a  great  carcass  of  avoirdupois,  and  as  lazy  a 
fellow  as  ever  breathed. 


An  Enemy.  15 

How  the  Judge  came  to  hire  him  was  a  mystery,  but 
hire  him  he  did,  and  James  had  his  patience  greatly  tried 
to  get  any  work  out  of  him. 

Bill  had  tried  to  "  shine  up "  to  Sue  Slocum,  the 
Judge's  daughter,  but  she  repelled  all  his  advances  so 
openly,  that  Bill  was  mad,  and  when  Lame  Simon,  an 
old  school  companion  of  other  days,  took  her  out  to  ride, 
Bill's  anger  waxed  hot,  and  he  plotted  revenge. 

As  Bob  had  suggested,  Simon  Perkins  was  of  no 
account. 

His  mother  owned  a  good  farm  and  was  a  respectable 
woman ;  but  it  was  reported  that  Simon's  father  had 
been  "  weak  in  the  upper  story."  The  old  gentleman 
was  dead,  and  Simon  nominally  had  charge  of  the  farm, 
though  his  mother  was  the  real  manager.  Simon  had  met 
with  an  accident  in  youth,  which  seriously  injured  him, 
and  people  treated  him  kindly  because  of  this.  He  was 
not  very  bright. 

Sue  cared  nothing  for  the  fellow,  but  to  please  him, 
allowed  him  to  take  her  to  ride  occasionally. 

Bill  Jenks  gave  him  some  curses  one  day,  and  Simon 
knew  no  better  than  to  call  him  a  lazy  fool,  which  com 
plimentary  epithet  added  fuel  to  the  flame.  Bill  secured 
some  of  the  rough  fellows  of  the  town  to  consent  to  a 
little  scheme  for  Simon's  humiliation. 

Bill  thought  Bob  Briggs  would. join  them,  but  made 
a  mistake  in  his  man ;  for  though  Bob  was  a  rough,  un 
educated  fellow  he  was  good  at  heart,  and  would  join 
no  party  to  hurt  a  foolish  lame  man. 

The  night  of  the  party  came.  Joe  and  Sue  Slocum 
were  popular,  and  had  invited  most  of  the  young  people 
of  the  neighborhood. 

It  was  a  regular  jollification  country  party.  They 
husked  corn,  hunting  for  red  ears,  then  pared  apples  to 
get  the  parings  for  fortune  telling. 

There  was  a  fine  supper,  the  table  being  loaded  with 
things  to  tempt  the  appetite,  and  after  the  supper  a  jolly 
country  dance. 

They  sang  their  love  songs,  and  drank  sweet  cider : 
played  "  round  the  carpet  "  and  "  Copenhagen,"  and 
never  had  a  thought  but  what  it  was  just  the  thing. 


1 6  Love  and  Liberty. 

It  was  observed  after  a  time  that  some  of  the  guests 
were  missing. 

"  Where's  Peter  Brooks  ? "  inquired  Joe.  Nobody 
knew. 

"  Anybody  seen  Lame  Simon  ?  " 

Some  one  had  seen  him  half  an  hour  ago. 

"Where's  Bill  Jenks?"  He  was  not  to  be  found. 
Bob  Briggs  recalled  Bill's  threat,  whispered  a  few  words 
to  James  Fuller,  and  they  went  out  together. 

"  They're  goin'  to  play  some  trick  on  Simon,"  said 
Bob,  and  he  related  his  interview  with  Bill. 

"  Bill  Jenks  is  the  meanest  man  I  ever  saw,"  returned 
James.  "  I  wonder  what  they're  up  to,  and  where  we'll 
find  them." 

They  went  towards  the  barn  where  the  young  people 
had  husked  corn  early  in  the  evening,  but  found  no  trace 
of  the  missing  men. 

As  they  were  returning,  James  saw  a  lantern  light 
some  distance  away,  down  in  the  meadow.  With  Bob, 
he  hurried  towards  the  place,  where  they  came  upon 
several  men. 

Up  against  an  old  wall  was  a  narrow  platform  made 
from  some  old  lumber,  on  which  was  a  chopping  block 
with  an  ax  by  it.  Kneeling  close  to  the  block  was  Lame 
Simon,  his  hands  tied  behind  him,  and  Bill  Jenks  talking 
to  him.  Peter  Brooks  and  three  other  fellows,  some  of 
them  strangers  to  James,  stood  near  by.  Bill  was  in  high 
glee. 

Simon  was  groaning  and  crying  for  mercy. 

"  Fell  in  love  with  Sue  Slocum,  did  ye  ?  " 

"  O  mercy,"  groaned  Simon,  "  I'll  never  take  her  to 
ride  again,  'pon  my  word  I  never  will." 

"  Called  me  a  lazy  fool,  did  ye?     I'll  pay  yer  up." 

"  I  take  it  all  back ;  I  will,  honor  bright,"  pleaded 
Simon. 

"  Feel  mighty  nice,  don't  ye,  with  yer  bay  boss  and 
kerridge." 

"  Tain't  mine,  it's  mother's,"  sobbed  Simon. 

"  We've  got  ye  now,  and  ye're  goin'  to  die,  so  say  yer 
prayers,  ye  tarnation  fool." 


An  Enemy.  17 

"O  Bill,  good  Bill,  please,  Bill,  don't  kill  me.  I 
never've  harmed  you  and  I  ain't  ready  to  die." 

"  Pete,  bring  up  that  kerchief,  we'll  blindfold  him  'fore 
we  chop  off  his  head,"  cried  the  bully. 

"  Help !    help !  murder !  "  yelled  Simon. 

James  and  Bob  came  up  at  this  moment  and  took  it  all 
in. 

They  were  playing  a  practical  joke  on  Simon,  but  it 
was  all  real  to  the  frightened  man. 

With  one  bound  more,  James  was  on  the  platform. 

"  Bill  Jenks,  what  are  you  doing?  Don't  you  know  any 
better  than  to  frighten  this  half-witted  man  to  death  ?  " 

"  What've  ye  got  to  say  'bout  it,  ye  devilish  cuss?"" 
sneered  Bill.  "  Ye've  bossed  it  over  me  long  enough. 
Ye  think  yer  mighty  big,  ye  do,  'cause  ye  write  po'try  and 
spout  in  the  woods ;  I  know  ye,  if  ye  are  so  smart. 
Ye're  nothing  but  a  big  upstart  anyhow.  Ole  Cap'n 
Spencer's  *  bound  boy,  and  nobody  knows  who  yer 
mother ' 

He  went  no  further.  With  a  sharp  cry  of  pain,  as  if 
an  iron  had  entered  his  heart,  James  struck  Bill  a  blow 
between  the  eyes  that  knocked  him  senseless  to  the  plat 
form,  and  then  kneeling  over  the  burly  form,  struck  and 
pounded  until  Bill's  friends  jumped  on  him.  They  did 
not  know  their  man,  however.  None  present  had  ever 
seen  him  in  one  of  those  paroxysms  of  rage.  With  giant 
like  power,  he  threw  one  after  another  from  him,  stamped 
them  under  his  feet,  and  cried :  "  Frighten  a  poor  wit 
less  man  to  death,  will  you?  Insult  your  Boss  if  you 
think  it  best.  Speak  disrespectfully  of  my  mother  if  you 
dare,  if  you  dare!"  He  repeated  the  last  words  in 
tones  of  thunder,  white  at  the  lips,  then  burst  into  tears, 
crying,  "  O  my  God,  is  it  possible  I  have  lived  to  see  this 
day!  Have  mercy  upon  a  broken-hearted  man!"  and 
staggered  to  the  ground. 

The  whole  affair  had  taken  scarcely  more  than  a  min 
ute.  Bob  Briggs  untied  Simon's  hands  and  helped  him 
down. 

The  prostrate  men,  with  the  exception  of  Bill, 
struggled  to  their  feet,  and,  stark  cowards  all,  ran  as  if 
for  their  lives. 


1 8  Love  and  Liberty. 

Rill  lay  where  he  had  fallen. 

Bob,  upon  examination,  found  him  unconscious  but 
breathing.  He  ran  towards  the  barn  and  returned  with 
water,  sprinkled  his  face  and  called  in  his  ear. 

"  Wake  up,  Bill,  wake  up,  I  say ;  time  to  go!  " 

James,  weak  and  faint  after  his  wrath,  said :  "  Is  he 
dead,  Bob  ?  " 

"  Dead  !  Xo  !  Ye  can't  kill  him  so  easy  !  "  Yet  Bill 
made  no  sign  for  some  time.  They  rubbed  his  hands, 
bathed  his  forehead  where  James'  knuckles,  hardened  by 
toil  from  youth,  had  cut  a  deep  gash,  and  called  to  him. 

At  length  he  slowly  opened  his  eyes. 

"  What's  the  matter.  Bob?  "  he  said. 

"  Ye  fell  and  got  hurt,"  was  the  answer.  ''  Git  up, 
now,  we  must  git  ye  home."  Bill  tried  to  rise  and  finally 
succeeded. 

Simon,  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  fright,  ran  to  the 
house,  hurriedly  told  the  news  and  returned  with  help. 

They  helped  Bill  to  his  room,  and  to  bed,  and  sum 
moned  the  doctor. 

The  party  soon  disbanded. 

Bill  remained  in  a  weak  condition  for  several  days. 
James  did  all  he  could  for  him  ;  said  he  was  sorry  he 
had  hurt  him  so  badly,  and  particularly  that  he  struck 
him  after  he  was  down. 

Bill  made  little  reply,  but  James  knew  that  he  was  filled 
with  rage  and  would  seek  revenge. 

After  his  recovery,  Bill  left  Judge  Slocum's  with  some 
good  advice  from  the  Judge,  which  he  didn't  greatly  ap 
preciate,  swearing  that  he  would  "  get  even  "  with  the 
Boss. 


How  Bill  got  Even.  19 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  BILL  GOT  EVEN. 

THE  news  of  the  whole  affair  spread  through  the  town 
like  wildfire.  No  one  liked  Bill,  and  very  few  cared  any 
thing  for  Simon  Perkins.  James  had  been  a  general  fa 
vorite  for  more  than  two  years,  and  was  highly  respected. 

The  exhibition  of  his  wrath  was  a  new  feature  to  most 
of  them,  though  a  few  knew  that  he  had  a  hot  temper. 

Bob  and  James  told  the  Judge  truthfully  about  the 
matter,  and  the  Judge,  a  wise  man,  said  he  saw  little  to 
blame,  except  striking  Bill  after  he  was  down. 

"  Served  Bill  right,"  said  Joe  Slocum. 

When  old  Mr.  Brooks  heard  that  Pete  was  one  of  those 
with  Bill,  he  gave  his  son  a  talk  that  Pete  never  forgot 
to  his  dying  day.  "  Such  practical  jokes  as  that,"  said 
Farmer  Brooks,  "  do  injury  that  can  never  be  remedied. 
The  men  who  practise  them  should  be  put  into  prison !  " 

On  the  various  farms,  the  fight  was  the  topic  of  con 
versation  for  a  long  while. 

"  Bill  Jenks  got  it  for  once,"  said  one. 

"  My !  wasn't  the  Boss  gamey  ?  Reckon  Bill  won't 
insult  him  again." 

"  Glad  of  it,"  said  another.  "  Bill  Jenks  has  been  the 
pest  of  this  neighborhood  long  enough ;  wish  the  Boss 
had  hurt  him  worse." 

These  expressions  indicated  the  general  feeling  over 
the  trouble. 

Lame  Simon,  when  he  understood  it  all,  went  to 
James,  kissed  his  hands,  and  prayed  a  blessing  on  his 
head. 

James,  however,  was  disturbed.  He  was  in  theory  a 
"  peace  man,"  and  hardly  believed  in  the  principles  of 
self-defense.  He  was  practically  a  Friend  though  he  had 
never  joined  the  Society.  He  substantially  accepted  the 


2O  Love  and  Liberty. 

Friends'  teaching,  and  it  was  his  custom  to  use  their 
language  when  talking  with  Friends ;  also  in  writing 
letters. 

He  was  a  regular  attendant  at  Quaker  meetings,  and 
yet  had  struck  a  man  while  filled  with  rage.  The  doctor 
said  had  the  blow  been  a  trifle  nearer  the  temple,  it  would 
have  proved  fatal. 

After  recovering  self-poise,  James  was  smitten  with  re 
morse,  and  scarcely  knew  what  to  do.  He  said  to  him 
self,  "  I  should  have  overlooked  the  insult  to  myself, 
but  could  any  man  of  spirit  allow  an  insult  to  his  mother's 
memory  without  retaliation  ?  " 

"  In  truth,  am  I  not  just  as  liable  to  explode  under 
provocation  to  myself  as  towards  a  friend?"  He 
squarely  questioned  himself,  and  was  sorely  troubled  over 
the  whole  affair.  Some  thought  Bill  would  arrest  James 
for  assault,  but  Bill's  reputation  was  such  that  he  didn't 
dare  to  do  it.  Besides  the  case  would  come  before  Judge 
Slocum,  and  he  knew  what  the  Judge  thought  of  the  whole 
transaction.  Like  all  bullies  and  cowards,  he  was  plan 
ning  to  "  get  even  "  with  James  where  the  latter  would 
be  at  a  disadvantage. 

One  First  Day,  as  the  Quakers  call  the  Sabbath,  about 
a  month  after  Bill  left,  James  was  returning  from  the 
evening  Quaker  meeting  on  foot.  Without  warning,  in 
a  lonely  place,  four  men  disguised  stepped  from  the 
bushes,  and  before  he  had  time  to  realize  that  mischief 
was  intended,  one  struck  him  a  blow  on  the  head  which 
stunned  him  and  he  fell.  A  gag  was  placed  in  his 
mouth,  a  stretcher  taken  from  the  bushes,  and  James 
placed  upon  it.  Then  the  men  moved  rapidly  away  with 
their  burden. 

When  he  became  conscious,  he  found  himself  in  a 
barn,  lying  on  the  hay,  bound  hand  and  foot,  with  a 
sharp  pain  in  his  head.  Two  men  were  sticking  large 
needles  into  his  flesh,  causing  severe  suffering.  James 
groaned  in  agony. 

"  O,  men,  hold  up.  this  is  dreadful !  " 

"  How  ye  like  it?  "  sneered  Bill  Jenks.  "  Got  ye  this 
time,  didn't  we?  Reckon  the  Boss'll  strike  a  man  that's 
down  agin,  eh  ?  " 


How  Bill  got  Even.  21 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  clone  that,  Bill,  but  you  had  re 
flected  on  my  mother,  and  I  was  very  angry." 

"  O  yes,  'suited  his  ma,  little  fellar,  poor  chap,  felt  bad 
for  his  ma ;  ha !  ha !  we'll  fix  yer  blasted  gizzard ;  yer 
don't  cut  gashes  in  Bill  Jenks'  head  for  nothin'.  Been  to 
Quaker  meetin',  ain't  ye,  good  boy  Jimmie?  Go  ahead, 
fellers,  warm  him  up." 

Thus  admonished,  the  two  men  continued  business. 
They  pricked  his  flesh,  stabbed  him  with  a  pen-knife, 
making  flesh  wounds,  causing  severe  pain ;  lashed  him 
with  stinging  cords,  mocked  him,  spit  upon  him,  and 
jeered  at  him  till  body,  heart  and  soul  were  exhausted 
with  the  torture,  and  in  spite  of  all  his  courage,  he 
swooned. 

"  Hold  up,"  cried  Bill,  "  'twon't  do  to  kill  the  beggar, 
I  s'pose.  Let's  leave  the  blasted  fool ! "  The  men 
started  down  from  the  hay-mow,  leaving  James  un 
conscious. 


22  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    RESCUE. 

MEANWHILE,  James  failed  to  appear,  and  the  Slocums 
felt  some  anxiety,  fearing  that  Bill,  who  was  reported 
about  the  neighborhood,  might  be  planning  mischief  to 
him. 

Joe  Slocum  started  towards  the  Quaker  meeting  house, 
and  came  to  Lame  Simon,  limping  towards  his  home. 

"Seen   anything  of  Jim?"   questioned   Joe. 

"  No." 

"  He  hasn't  got  back  from  meeting  and  our  folks  were 
afraid  Bill  Jenks  might  be  after  him." 

Simon  was  all  attention. 

(>  I'll  go  with  you." 

They  went  by  Bob  Briggs'  house  and  he  joined  them. 
Soon  they  came  to  a  place  in  the  road  where  the  moon 
light  showed  the  track  disturbed  by  many  feet,  and  the 
postmarks  of  the  stretcher. 

'  There's  been  a  scuffle,"  exclaimed  Joe.  "  Some 
thing's  up,"  said  Bob. 

After  investigation  they  decided  that  the  last  tracks 
were  from  feet  going  in  the  same  direction  as  themselves, 
and  a  little  further  on  traced  them  to  a  side  road,  only 
used  occasionally,  off  from  the  main  highway. 

Following  on  as  rapidly  as  Lame  Simon  could  go, 
they  ascended  a  hill. 

"  Ye  s'pose  they've  took  him  to  Jake  Billings'?  "  asked 
Bob. 

"  Possibly,"  returned  Joe. 

Jake  Billings  was  a  man  after  Bill's  own  heart.  He 
lived  five  miles  up  this  Rocky  Hill  road  with  a  wife  as 
tough  as  himself.  The  house  was  back  from  the  road, 
and  was  a  fit  place  to  commit  almost  any  crime.  The 
tracks  continued  to  lead  on. 


The  Rescue.  23 

"What's  the  time?"  asked  Bob. 

"  Half-past  'leven,"  answered  Joe. 

"  O  Joe,  do  you  think  they've  killed  him?  "  questioned 
Simon  with  terror  in  his  voice. 

"  No,  we  hope  not,"  was  the  reply.  But  Simon  was 
almost  despairing. 

"Jake's  just  awful,"  cried  he,  "he  beat  little  Sam 
Read  almost  to  pieces  when  he  worked  there  last  sum 
mer." 

They  cut  three  heavy  sticks  from  the  roadside  and 
hurried  on.  About  one  o'clock,  they  came  in  sight  of 
Jake's  house.  There  was  a  faint  light  in  the  second 
story  window.  As  they  came  to  the  path  leading  up  to 
the  house,  the  tracks  could  be  plainly  seen  turning  that 
way. 

'"  He's  up  there,"  whispered  Joe.  Cautiously  they 
pushed  on.  As  they  turned  towards  the  house,  there 
came  a  faint  gleam  from  the  window  at  the  end  of  the 
barn.  "  I'll  bet  they're  in  the  barn,"  Bob  whispered. 

Close  to  the  building  was  the  stretcher.  "  You  s'pose 
he  was  brought  on  that?"  said  Simon. 

"  Wouldn't  wonder,"  came  the  reply.  As  they  stood 
near  the  barn  door,  voices  were  heard. 

"Somebody'll  hunt  for  him,  Bill,"  said  a  voice  from 
within,  which  the  listeners  recognized  as  Jake's,  "  but 
I'll  look  out  for  matters.  If  he  dies,  we'll  find  a  place 
to  put  his  blasted  carkiss.  If  he's  better'n  the  mornin', 
we'll  talk  it  over  what  to  do.  Did  ye  mind  that  rap 
he  gin  me  the  night  o'  the  fight?  It's  been  black  and 
blue  for  a  month ;"  and  Jake  opened  the  door.  Out 
came  four  men.  At  the  same  instant,  up  flashed  three 
clubs  in  the  moonlight  and  fell  on  the  heads  of  three 
men.  Two  of  them  dropped  with  yells ;  the  other,  by  a 
desperate  effort,  recovered  himself,  and  with  the  fourth 
man  dodged  round  the  barn,  followed  by  Joe  and  Bob. 
But  they  soon  lost  the  fugitives,  who  knew  the  ways  of 
the  farm  better  than  the  pursuers.  After  a  vain  search, 
they  returned,  and  found  Simon  over  the  prostrate  forms 
of  Jake  and  his  companion,  who  was  unknown  to  them. 
They  had  not  recovered  consciousness,  and  were  already 
securely  tied  by  Simon,  The  rescuers  went  into  the 


24  Love  and  Liberty. 

barn,  relighted  the  lantern  the  ruffians  had  dropped,  and 
after  some  search,  discovered  poor  James  in  an  uncon 
scious  condition  on  the  hay-mow.  He  was  naked  to  the 
waist  and  covered  with  blood.  Cutting  the  cords  which 
bound  him,  they  carried  him  below,  threw  water  in  his 
face,  washed  his  wounds,  and  partly  dressed  him. 

He  awakened  very  weak.  "  Get  me  home,  boys,"  said 
he.  They  took  a  horse  and  wagon  from  the  barn,  piled 
the  desperadoes  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  and  took 
the  wounded  man  in  their  arms  and  started  for  Judge 
Slocum's,  where  they  arrived  just  before  three  o'clock, 
and  told  their  story.  James  was  put  in  bed,  and  a  physi 
cian  called. 

The  ruffians  revived  and  were  taken  to  the  jail.  The 
doctor  reported  no  permanent  injury,  but  a  bad  cut  in 
the  head,  loss  of  blood,  several  flesh  wounds,  and  an 
extremely  weak  and  nervous  condition,  which  would  re 
quire  perfect  rest  and  several  weeks'  nursing. 

Lame  Simon  volunteered  to  care  for  him,  and  made 
an  excellent  nurse.  The  least  wish  of  James  was  ab 
solute  law,  and  this  poor,  simple  soul  gloried  in  the 
thought  that  he  could  do  something  for  {he  rnan  who  had 
delivered  him  from  Bill  Jenks. 

The  next  day,  officers  went  to  Jake's  farm  to  arrest  his 
wife,  and,  if  possible,  Bill  and  the  other  man  who  had 
escaped,  but  the  birds  had  flown.  The  wife,  fearing 
punishment,  had  fled  with  Jenks,  and  neither  of  them 
were  ever  seen  in  the  neighborhood  again. 

Jake  Billings  and  'Rastus  Smead,  his  accomplice,  in 
process  of  time  were  tried  and  sentenced  to  several  years 
in  the  penitentiary.  James  Fuller  lay  in  bed  for  nearly 
a  month,  and  by  the  following  spring,  was  apparently  as 
well  as  ever,  but  the  horrors  of  that  night  never  faded 
from  his  memory. 

"  I  am  the  victim  of  a  cruel  fate,"  he  cried. 

Bill  Jenks,  his  enemy,  was  still  at  large. 


A  Visit  to  Boston.  25 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A    VISIT    TO    BOSTON. 

WHEN  James  visited  Boston  in  1837,  it  proved  to  be 
a  great  event  in  his  life.  He  had  planned  to  go  before 
Thanksgiving,  but  Tom  Smith,  who  was  to  go  with 
him,  had  been  sick ;  the  New  England  festival  was 
always  a  great  occasion  at  Judge  Slocum's,  and  James 
wished  to  be  present. 

So  December  came  before  he  and  Tom  were  ready. 
The  fall  or  winter  was  the  best  -time  for  James  to  be 
absent  from  the  farm,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  further 
postpone  the  visit.  The  weather  was  fine,  and  he  and 
Tom  went  by  horse  and  wagon  on  the  old  Turnpike ; 
they  put  up  the  first  night  at  a  farmhouse,  and  reached 
Boston  at  the  close  of  the  second  day. 

"Don't  they  pile  up  the  granite  buildings  here?  Big 
town,  this,"  said  Tom.  "  That's  a  fact,"  replied  James. 
"  Wonder  where  we'll  stop."  "  O,  inquire  for  a  tavern," 
and  they  found  just  the  place  which  they  desired.  Mak 
ing  headquarters  at  the  tavern,  tney  explored,  the  great 
city.  Neither  of  them  had  been  to  any  city  except  Provi 
dence,  and  though  Boston  was  a  very  different  town  in 
1837  from  what  it  is  to-day,  it  was  sufficiently  large  and 
wonderful  to  impress  our  country  friends  with  its  great 
ness. 

'  These  are  the  old  cow  paths  where  the  boys  drove 
the  cows  home,  so  I've  heard,"  answered  James. 

They  went  into  the  State  House  on  Beacon  Hill,  vis 
ited  the  Old  South  Church  of  Revolutionary  fame,  where 
the  orthodox  people  worshiped,  went  down  to  Faneuil 
Hall,  the  "  Cradle  of  Liberty,"  with  its  paintings  of  great 
men,  and  the  markets  underneath. 

"Whew!"  said  James.  "Guess  people  needn't  go 
hungry  in  Boston.  Don't  they  pile  up  meats  and  provis- 


26  Love  and  Liberty. 

ions  in  great  style?  Slightly  different  from  things 
'round  Wilksville,  and  Ashton,  eh,  Tom  ?  " 

"  That's  what  1  say,"  replied  Tom.  "  What's  that 
stuff,  Jim?" 

"  Celery ;  fine  too.     The  Judge  gets  it  sometimes." 

They  came  to  the  wharves  and  ferry-boats. 

"  Let's  go  over."  They  went  over,  rambled  around 
East  Boston,  and  returning,  came  across  a  substantial 
church  building  at  North  Square,  with  a  blue  and  white 
flag  floating  from  the  top. 

"  'Seamen's  Bethel,'  "  read  James.  "  Say,  Tom,  do  you 
know  I've  read  about  this  church.  '  Father  Taylor  '  is 
the  preacher ;  they  say  he's  an  eccentric  fellow,  i  regular 
shouting  Methodist,  hauls  in  the  sailors  here  and  gets 
them  all  converted." 

"  By  gum !    I  never  heard  of  him,"  said  Tom. 

Passing  through  "  Methodist  Alley,"  they  soon  came 
to  the  Old  North  Church  on  Salem  Street  where  the 
signal  lights  of  Paul  Revere  were  hung  from  the  steeple 
that  memorable  April  night  in  17/5,  warning  the  country 
of  the  march  of  the  British  troops  to  Lexington  and 
Concord. 

"  Tom,  this  is  glorious.  Just  think  of  it,  we're  in 
Boston ;  it's  worth  something  to  see  this  old  historic 
church." 

"  You're  right,  old  boy." 

They  were  told  that  Copps  Hill  burying-ground  was 
just  up  the  street,  and  thither  they  went.  There  was  the 
Mather  tomb  with  the  following  inscription : 

"The  Reverend  Doctor  Increase,  Cotton,  and  Samuel  Mather  were 
interred  in  this  vault.  Tis  the  tombs  of  our  Fathers. 

"  Mather  Crocker's." 

"  Here's  where  the  red-coats  had  their  cannon  for 
the  Bunker  Hill  fight,"  said  James.  The  young  men 
then  went  over  to  Washington  Street,  up  old  Bromficld 
street,  towards  the  Common,  passing  by  Park  Street 
Church. 

'  That's  the  Brimstone  Corner,"  said  James.  They 
went  into  the  old  cemetery  and  looked  upon  the  graves 


A  Visit  to  Boston.  27 

of  John  Hancock,  and  other  noted  men  of  former  days, 
then  went  on  the  Common. 

"  There's  the  Frog  Pond." 

"  It  doesn't  look  so  big-  as  I  thought,"  piped  Tom. 

"  And  there's  the  Old  Elm.  Interesting  spot  here. 
Wonder  where  they  hung  those  Quakers." 

"  And  where  those  Yankee  boys  had  their  snow  hills 
for  sliding  that  the  red-coats  destroyed,  which  caused 
the  boys  to  visit  General  Gage  and  get  protection." 

Our  friends  visited  Cambridge  and  the  grounds  of 
Harvard  University.  Saw  the  Old  Elm  where  Wash 
ington  took  command  of  the  American  army,  and  the 
church  where  he  attended  divine  service. 

They  went  to  Charlestown  and  Bunker  Hill  and  saw 
the  corner-stone  of  the  monument  laid  twelve  years 
before. 

"  I  hope  they'll  finish  this  monument  some  day,"  said 
one. 

"  So  do  I,"  was  the  answer,  "  then  we'll  come  again." 

"  Sartain  sure,"  was  the  response. 

"  This  is  the  place  where  the  red-coats  got  it." 

"  I'll  bet  they  did." 

"  Weren't  they  surprised  that  the  Yankees  could  fight 
so?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  were." 

Passing  to  the  tavern,  they  went  by  "  King's  Chapel." 

"  Here's  another  church,"  said  Tom.  A  man  told  them 
that  the  stone  building  was  erected  in  1749.  that  George 
Washington  attended  an  oratorio  given  there  in  1789, 
and  that  old  Joseph  Green,  a  noted  writer  of  Colon :al 
days,  wrote  some  poetry  about  the  church  because  the  old 
Latin  schoolhouse  was  torn  down  to  make  room  for  the 
stone  chapel. 


"  A  fig  for  your  learning ! 

I  tell  you  the  Town 
To  make  the  church  larper 

Must  pull  the  school  clown! 
Unhappily  spoken  !  exclaims 

Master  Birch. 
Then  learning,  it  seems, 

Stops  the  growth  of  the  church 


28  Love  and  Liberty. 

Our  friends  spent  several  days  about  the  city.  While 
passing  down  Washington  Street  the  third  afternoon, 
they  saw  notice  of  a  meeting  to  be  held  the  next  day  in 
Faneuil  Hall  to  publicly  condemn  the  murder  of  Elijah 
P.  Love  joy  of  Alton,  Illinois,  who  had  died  at  the  hands 
of  a  mob. 

"  All  about  it  in  the  Liberator!" 

"  Let's  buy  a  Liberator,"  said  James. 

"  It's  William  Lloyd  Garrison's  paper,"  continued  he. 
"  Garrison  is  a  great  Abolitionist  and  wants  to  free  the 
slaves.  Judge  Slocum  has  had  some  copies  of  this  paper. 
They  dragged  Garrison  through  the  streets  of  Boston 
with  a  rope  two  years  ago,  and  his  life  was  only  saved  by 
getting  him  to  jail." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him,"  said  Tom. 

'  Time  you  did,  then,"  answered  James. 

The  Liberator  gave  an  account  of  the  whole  affair. 

Lovejoy  published  a  paper  called  The  Observer, 
and  had  declared  in  favor  of  anti-slavery  principles,  con 
tended  for  freedom  of  speech,  and  demanded  punish 
ment  for  the  murder  of  a  negro.  He  and  his  paper  were 
denounced,  but  he  continued  his  work.  When  warned  to 
flee  he  said:  "  If  I  fall,  my  grave  shall  be  in  Alton." 

On  the  seventh  of  the  previous  month,  he  \vas  shot 
with  five  bullets  by  members  of  a  mob.  He  rushed  to 
the  counting-room,  exclaiming  "  I  am  shot,  I  am  shot," 
and  died  immediately.  The  mob  rushed  in,  fired  upon 
his  friends,  broke  up  his  press  and  set  the  building  on 
fire. 

Dr.  Channing  had  called  a  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall  for 
the  following  day,  to  condemn  publicly  this  outrage  and 
murder. 

"  Let's  go,"  said  James. 

"  All  right,"  was  the  response. 

They  went.  Some  one,  the  young  men  did  not  know 
whom,  called  the  meeting  to  order. 

A  man  said,  "  I  nominate  Honorable  Jonathan  Phil 
lips  for  chairman  of  this  meeting.  Mr.  Phillips  was 
elected,  and  said : 

"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  to  you  the  Rev. 
Pr  Channing,  who  will  now  address  the  meeting," 


A  Visit  to  Boston.  29 

The  man  introduced  gave  what  seemed  to  our  friends 
an  able  and  calm  address,  in  which  he  described  the 
wickedness  of  the  Lovejoy  murder,  and  contended  for 
free  speech  and  a  free  press.  After  he  sat  down,  the 
chairman  continued : 

"  Mr.  B.  F.  Hallett  will  read  some  resolutions.1'  The 
man  mentioned  read  resolutions  condemning  in  strong 
terms  the  Lovejoy  tragedy.  As  he  closed  the  reading, 
another  man  rose  to  his  feet  saying,  "  Mr.  Chairman." 

"  Mr.  Hillard,"  responded  the  chairman. 

This  person,  with  much  impressiveness,  made  a  speech 
supporting  the  resolutions. 

'  That's  fine,"  whispered  James  to  Tom. 

"  Good  enough,"  replied  Tom. 

As  the  boys  were  speaking,  there  arose  in  the  gallery, 
only  a  few  seats  from  where  they  sat,  a  fine-looking  man, 
and  addressed  the  Chair. 

"  Attorney-General  Austin  has  the  floor,"  responded 
the  presiding  officer. 

Our  friends  watched  him  while  he  proceeded  with 
much  apparent  anger  to  denounce  the  resolutions,  and 
the  object  of  the  meeting. 

''  The  emancipation  of  the  slaves  would  be  like  turning 
loose  the  wild  beasts  of  a  menagerie,"  cried  he. 

"  That's  insulting,"  whispered  James. 

"  He's  a  mean  old  codger,  if  he  is  the  Attorney-Gen 
eral,"  replied  Tom.  The  speaker  continued  in  a  simi 
lar  strain  as  he  had  begun,  and  closed,  saying:  "  Lovejoy 
died  as  the  fool  dieth." 

James  held  his  breath  in  astonishment. 

As  Austin  took  his  seat,  there  was  much  confusion. 
Our  friends  heard  both  applause  and  hisses.  Then  they 
saw  a  young  man  spring  upon  the  rostrum. 

"  Mr.  Wendell  Phillips  has  the  floor,"  shouted  the 
president  as  he  sought  to  still  the  tumult. 

James  and  Tom  looked  at  the  man.  "  He's  a  young 
fellow,"  whispered  James. 

"  By  gum !  sure  enough,"  said  Tom. 

"  What  a  fine  head  and  form  he  has !  "  continued 
James. 

"  He  looks  like  one  of  the  big  bugs,"  was  the  answer. 


30  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  man  began  to  speak.  He  was  ardent  and  strong-, 
indignant,  fiery  with  intense  feeling,  his  tongue  aflame 
with  the  righteous  wrath  which  filled  his  soul. 

"  There's  the  speaker  for  you,"  cried  James.  "  That's 
what  Judge  Slocum  would  call  eloquence,  sir." 

The  audience  appeared  to  know  little  concerning  him, 
for  whispers  were  heard  near  James,  asking  "  Who  is 
he?  " 

"  One  of  the  Harvard  graduates,"  some  one  answered. 

He  was  graceful,  displayed  some  humor,  and  was  fre 
quently  interrupted  by  applause. 

James  listened  to  the  young  orator  of  freedom,  while 
Phillips  condemned  in  unmeasured  terms  the  brutal  out 
rage,  and  the  ennobling  strains  of  his  eloquence  took 
the  audience  by  storm.  Sometimes  hisses  were  heard, 
but  James  thought  the  majority  of  the  audience  were  on 
the  side  of  the  speaker. 

He  said :  "  Mr.  Chairman,  when  I  heard  the  gentle 
man,  Mr.  Austin,  lay  down  principles,  which  placed  the 
rioters,  incendiaries  and  murderers  of  Alton,  side  by  side 
with  Otis  and  Hancock,  with  Quincy  and  Adams,  I 
thought  those  pictured  lips,"  (pointing  to  the  portraits  on 
the  wall)  "  would  have  broken  into  voice  to  rebuke  the 
recreant  American,  the  slanderer  of  the  dead.  Sir,  the 
gentleman  said  that  he  should  sink  into  insignificance,  if 
he  dared  not  gainsay  the  principles  of  the  resolutions 
before  this  meeting.  For  the  sentiments  he  has  uttered 
on  soil  consecrated  by  the  prayers  of  Puritans,  and  the 
blood  of  patriots,  the  earth  should  have  yawned  and 
swallowed  him  up !  " 

Then,  launching  into  an  address  on  the  wickedness  of 
the  pro-slavery  opposition,  he  discussed  the  principles  of 
freedom  and  the  righteousness  of  the  Abolition  move 
ment,  swaying  the  audience  with  his  resistless  power, 
logic  and  eloquence,  till  the  "  Cradle  of  Liberty  "  rocked 
with  his  enthusiasm,  while  applause  and  cheers  broke 
like  ocean  waves  around  him. 

James  was  spell-bound  by  the  power  of  the  orator  and 
the  tumult  of  the  scene.  He  gazed  with  tearful  eyes 
upon  Phillips  as  the  latter  took  his  seat.  James  wished 
to  grasp  his  hand,  to  tell  him  that  he  had  stirred  his 


A  Visit  to  Boston.  31 

soul  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  that  henceforth  his  life 
would  be  enriched  by  the  inspiration  and  memory  of  this 
hour. 

It  was  a  turning  point  in  James'  life.  He  had  never 
seen  such  a  crowd,  nor  heard  such  speaking,  nor  listened 
to  such  applause.  It  made  him  wild  with  excitement ; 
his  fiery,  emotional  soul  was  strangely  moved.  He 
heard  the  groaning  of  the  slave,  the  curses  of  their 
owners,  the  demands  of  the  Abolitionists,  and  knew  that 
the  struggle  for  liberty  in  the  land  of  the  Puritans  had 
begun. 

He  thought  of  his  ancestor,  Samuel  Fuller,  who  landed 
at  Plymouth  Rock,  and  that  the  Puritan  blood  flowed  in 
his  own  veins. 

James  heard  some  of  the  people  talking  as  the  throng 
passed  out. 

"  That  young  man  has  some  of  the  best  blood  in  Bos 
ton  in  him,"  said  one. 

"  Yes,  and  the  best  culture  of  Harvard  besides,"  an 
swered  another. 

"  A  young  aristocrat  turned  Abolitionist,"  was  the 
response. 

Our  friends  waited  till  part  of  the  audience  had  gone, 
then  passed  through  the  crowd  which  remained,  and 
reached  the  chairman. 

James  mentioned  their  names  and  asked  if  they  might 
be  introduced  to  the  orator. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Mr.  Phillips,  this  is  Mr.  James  Fuller  of  Ashton  and 
his  friend,  Thomas  Smith  of  Wilksville."  The  great 
hearted  man  took  their  hands  in  his  own,  and  looked  into 
the  blue  eyes  of  James,  saying,  "  James  Fuller,  I  am 
glad  to  greet  you.  I  call  upon  you  to  devote  your  life 
to  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  may  the  God  of  heaven  bless 
you." 

"  Mr.  Phillips,"  said  James,  "  I  can  only  say  that  you 
have  moved  me  to-night  to  lofty  purpose.  There  has 
been  born  within  me  a  resolve  to  ever  labor  for  the  prin 
ciples  of  freedom." 

Phillips  turned  to  greet  others,  while  James  and  Tom 
slowly  pushed  their  way  to  the  street. 


32  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RUTH. 

THE  fair  sex  always  had  an  attraction  for  James.  He 
delighted  in  a  beautiful  face  and  form.  In  early  life, 
with  his  rustic  associates,  he  would  sing  the  sweet,  in 
nocent  love  songs  of  the  day,  to  the  gratification  of  the 
country  lasses,  and  sometimes  with  boyish  fancy  pick  out 
his  sweetheart ;  but  up  to  the  time  of  his  visit  to  Boston, 
no  permanent  love  had  come  to  him.  It  was  a  fact  that 
in  one  of  his  outbursts  of  rage  he  had  wrathfully 
pounded  a  boy  who  dared  to  go  home  from  spel ling- 
school  one  night  with  a  maiden  whom  James  fancied,  but 
upon  reflection,  James  decided  she  was  not  the  girl  for 
him. 

There  was  a  time  when  he  was  attracted  to  Sue  Slo- 
cum,  his  employer's  daughter,  but  Sue  was  something  of 
a  coquette.  She  liked  the  young  "  Boss,"  but  flirted 
with  too  many  other  men  to  suit  James,  who,  after  a 
little,  was  not  particularly  captivated  with  Sue,  though 
they  were  on  excellent  terms.  It  was  thought  strange 
that  she  had  not  accepted  one  of  the  many  suitors  who 
had  applied  for  her  heart  and  hand,  but  she  was  an 
artful,  roguish  young  lady,  not  ready  to  settle  down  to 
a  married  life. 

The  next  spring,  after  the  Boston  visit,  Tom  Smith 
came  to  work  at  the  Slocum  farm.  James  still  retained 
his  position  as  foreman,  now  entering  upon  his  sixth 
year  of  service.  One  day  while  at  work,  Tom  said :  "  I 
tell  you,  Jim,  there's  the  finest  girl  on  that  Quaker  farm 
over  in  the  next  town  that  ever  you  saw." 

"  O,  hush !  "  said  James,  for  he  knew  that  Tom  was 
fearfully  weak  where  women  were  concerned. 

"  It's  the  born  truth,"  returned  Tom,  "  haven't  you 
seen  her  ?  " 


Ruth.  33 

"  Not  to  speak  with  her,"  replied  Jim.  The  fact  was 
he  had  seen  a  Quaker  lass  at  meeting  of  late,  whom 
he  thought  might  be  the  young  lady  in  question. 

"  Well,  I'll  get  you  an  introduction,  only  mind,  don't 
you  play  any  games  on  me." 

"  You  shall  have  the  first  chance,"  said  Jim  with  a 
smile,  for  he  was  well  assured  that  whoever  the  young 
lady  might  be,  if  she  fancied  Tom  as  a  particular  friend, 
she  would  never  care  for  him. 

The  introduction  followed.  It  was  that  Quaker  girl 
whom  he  had  seen  at  meeting,  and  when  he  saw  her  at 
home  and  heard  her  speak,  he  was  smitten. 

Ruth  Grover  was  indeed  a  beautiful  girl.  Dark  com 
plexion,  finely  formed,  eyes  that  looked  through  one's 
soul,  cheeks  where  the  blushes  played  hide  and  seek, 
modest  and  good,  healthful,  free,  and  bright  as  the  morn 
ing. 

When  James  looked  into  those  beautiful  eyes,  he  knew 
that  his  fate  had  come.  In  deference  to  his  promise -to 
Tom,  he  gave  his  companion  ample  opportunity  to  find 
if  his  suit  was  successful.  Tom  put  on  his  best  behavior, 
donned  his  Sunday  suit  often,  but  all  in  vain.  Ruth 
cared  not  for  Tom  as  he  soon  discovered,  and  was  hon 
orable  enough  to  tell  James  that  the  field  was  open. 

James  Fuller  felt  that  a  crisis  had  come  in  his  life. 
One  First  Day  afternoon  in  early  summer,  arrayed  in  his 
best  suit,  he  went  to  the  Quaker  farmhouse  and  rapped 
at  the  door.  Ruth's  mother,  to  his  question  regarding 
her  daughter,  announced  that  she  was  within  and  bade 
him  enter.  Although  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  his 
heart  beat  fast,  and  a  glow  of  delight  thrilled  him  as  he 
took  the  soft  hand  of  the  maiden.  The  roses  touched 
her  cheek  as  she  kindly  greeted  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  thee,  James." 

"  I  can  return  the  compliment,"  quoth  he. 

"  We  have  a  beautiful  First  Day.  Did  thee  go  to 
meeting?  " 

"  No,  I  was  unable  to  attend  this  morning." 

"  The  service  was  excellent.  A  Sister  from  Provi 
dence  was  moved  by  the  Spirit  to  holiest  interpretation 
of  a  passage  in  the  gospel  of  John." 


34  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  missed  the  meeting,"  answered 
James. 

They  conversed  of  books  and  religion,  of  every  day 
affairs,  and  at  Ruth's  suggestion,  went  to  the  garden, 
where  flowers  of  many  varieties  blo'ssomed  in  the  old- 
fashioned  beds,  sending  their  rich  perfume  to  the  happy 
couple. 

Some  late  roses  climbed  the  trellis.  Ruth  plucked 
them  with  her  dainty  fingers  for  James,  and  placed  them 
in  his  hand. 

"  I  will  keep  them  in  remembrance  of  thee." 

"  As  thou  wilt,"  said  Ruth. 

They  wandered  through  the  meadow,  to  the  babbling 
brook,  and  sat  beneath  the  quiet  shade,  till  the  darken 
ing  shadows  drew  them  to  the  house. 

After  a  royal  farmer's  supper,  the  most  joyous  evening 
of  James'  life  thus  far  was  spent  in  Ruth's  company,  and 
it  was  hard  to  leave  the  beautiful  Quakeress  for  his  own 
abode.  Weeks  followed,  and  months  passed  by.  That 
summer  was  the  happiest  that  James  had  ever  known.  It 
seemed  as  if  his  heavenly  Father  was  dropping  golden 
rays  of  sunshine  all  about  his  way. 

One  First  Day  afternoon  in  the  autumn  days,  holding 
his  sweetheart's  hand,  under  the  rose-bush  where  she 
had  first  plucked  those  roses,  and  given  them  to  him, 
he  told  her  of  his  love,  and  asked  if  she  would  be  his 
bride. 

She  answered  with  the  blushes  mounting  her  cheek, 
and  those  beautiful  eyes  looking  into  his,  in  the  words  of 
another  pastoral  maiden,  whose  name  she  bore. 

"  Where  thou  goest,  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  lodgcst, 
I  will  lodge.  Thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy 
God  my  God.  The  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also, 
if  aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me!" 

The  heart  of  James  was  so  full  of  joy  that  he  could 
not  speak,  but  he  put  his  arm  about  her  waist,  drew  her 
close  to  his  heart,  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  maiden 
lips,  sealing  the  vow  between  them  made. 

Then  he  cried,  "  O,  Ruth,  I  love  thee  so,  God  only 
knows.  Thou  art  too  good  for  me.  E'en  now  I  fear 
lest  thou  shouldst  be  taken  from  me ! "  But  that 


Ruth.  35 

sturdy  Quaker  maiden,  pressing  her  lips  to  her  lover's 
face,  replied,  "  James,  we  are  in  God's  hands,  let  Him 
do  what  seemeth  Him  good." 

They  lingered  long  that  night  in  the  gathering  gloom 
of  the  garden,  rejoicing  in  their  pure  love  for  each  other, 
then  sought  the  maiden's  parents,  made  known  their  re 
quest,  and  after  some  hesitation,  because  James  was  not 
a  member  of  the  Friends'  Society,  received  at  length 
the  parents'  consent  and  blessing.  That  night,  James 
dreamed  a  dream.  In  the  most  beautiful  place  with  his 
promised  bride,  he  walked  enraptured,  his  soul  trans 
figured  with  rarest  joy,  when  suddenly  an  angel  clasped 
Ruth's  hand,  and  parted  them.  In  vain  he  tried  to  hold 
her;  she  vanished  from  his  sight.  With  cries  of 
anguish,  he  woke  to  find  it  all  a  dream,  and  the  sun 
shining  in  at  his  window. 


36  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HAPPINESS. 

THE  engagement  of  James  and  Ruth  soon  became 
known  and  they  received  many  congratulations.  Pres 
ents  and  good  wishes  came  from  various  sources.  The 
marriage  was  to  occur  the  following  spring,  and  the  par 
ents  would  give  their  daughter  a  good  furnishing  for 
the  wedding  day.  Brothers  and  sister  rallied  Ruth  con 
cerning  her  choice,  with  right  merry  good  will. 

"  Ruth,  to-morrow,  we  must  quilt,"  said  her  mother. 

"  It  is  well,"  returned  Ruth. 

"  Invite  thy  friends  for  the  evening." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  mother." 

"  Tell  Mary  to  have  everything  ready,  and  thy  father 
to  prepare  fruit  for  thy  friends." 

"  Yes  mother,"  returned  the  blushing  Ruth. 

The  night  of  the  quilting  party  arrived,  and  the  young 
people  had  a  merry  time.  There  was  much  fun  and 
James  was  the  life  of  it  all.  He  was  so  happy  with 
Ruth  that  he  sang  and  laughed  and  played  games  with 
boyish  glee. 

"  Get  the  apples,"  cried  James.  They  were  brought. 
He  pared  a  large  one,  threw  the  paring  over  his  head, 
and  looked  to  see  the  letter  it  had  formed. 

"  An  S,"  cried  one.  ''  Sue  Slocum,  as  sure  as  you 
live." 

"  Xay,"  replied  Ruth,  "  it  is  R,  as  thee  may  plainly  see." 

Such  was  the  final  decision. 

"  Sing  us  another  song,  James,"  demanded  one  of  the 
young  women. 

"  Quakers  don't  sing,"  replied  James. 

"  You're  no  Quaker,"  came  the  answer,  "  and  you've 
already  sung  once." 

"  We  shall  insist  on  another,"  came  a  chorus  of  voices. 


Happiness.  37 

Thus  requested,  James,  in  his  clear,  sweet  voice  sang 
the  following  song : 

ROLL  ON,  SILVER  MOON. 

As  I  strayed  from  my  cot  at  the  close  of  the  day, 

To  muse  on  the  beauties  of  June, 
'Neath  a  jessamine  shade  I  espied  a  fair  maid, 

And  she  sadly  complained  to  the  moon. 

CHORUS. 

Roll  on,  silver  moon,  guide  the  traveller  on  his  way, 

While  the  nightingale's  song  is  in  tune, 
For  I  never,  never  more  with  my  true  love  will  stray, 

By  the  soft,  silver  light  of  the  moon. 

As  the  hart  on  the  mountain,  my  lover  was  brave, 

So  handsome  and  manly  to  view, 
So  kind  and  sincere,  and  he  loved  me  most  dear ; 

O  Edwin,  no  love  was  more  true. 
Chorus,  "  Roll  on,  etc." 

But  now  he  is  dead,  and  the  youth  once  so  gay 

Is  cut  down  like  a  rose  in  full  bloom  ; 
And  he  silently  sleeps,  and  I'm  thus  left  to  weep 

By  the  sweet  silver  light  of  the  moon. 
Chorus,  "  Roll  on,  etc." 

"  Bravo,  James,"  cried  the  merry  young  people  and 
some  of  them  clapped  their  hands. 

Thus  passed  in  mirth  and  innocent  pleasure  the  happy 
hours. 

When  James  and  Ruth  separated  that  night,  James 
put  his  arm  around  his  bride  elect,  and  called  her  his 
lovely  sweetheart,  and  once,  twice,  thrice  kissed  her  ruby 
lips. 

"  Ruth,  thou  dost  make  me  very  happy.  Farewell,  my 
darling,  for  a  little." 

"  James,"  was  the  answer,  "  thou  art  my  own  true 
love ;  God  bless  and  keep  thee,  dearest."  And  so  they 
parted. 

The  following  spring,  James  left  Judge  Slocum's  and 
hired  a  farm  in  Groveland.  the  town  in  which  Ruth 
lived,  not  far  away  from  the  Quaker  homestead.  He 
furnished  the  comfortable  farmhouse  in  a  modest  way. 


38  Love  and  Liberty. 

His  bride  came  well  equipped  with  the  usual  gifts  of 
parents  to  daughters,  and  when  the  house  was  arranged 
by  Ruth's  good  taste  and  deft  fingers,  a  pleasant  home 
they  had. 

It  was  a  beautiful  April  day  when  he  took  his  bride 
to  their  home.  The  year  that  followed  was  one  of  great 
joy  to  them  both.  They  were  so  happy  in  their  love, 
and  so  completely  one,  that  all  the  days  flew  by  on 
golden  wings. 

James  worked  his  farm  with  good  success,  and  Ruth 
was  a  good  housewife,  acting  well  her  part  in  house 
hold  duties.  Those  days  at  the  farmhouse  with  his 
bride  ever  lingered  with  sweetest  fragrance  in  James' 
memory.  Those  fall  and  winter  evenings  in  his  own 
home  with  her  whom  his  soul  loved  were  hours  of  rare 
enjoyment.  He  read  his  books  and  papers  and  she  en 
tered  into  all  his  thoughts  of  freedom  for  the  slave ;  for, 
from  that  night  when  Wendell  Phillips  had  stirred  his 
soul  with  holy  zeal  in  freedom's  cause,  he  had  been  an 
Abolitionist.  He  subscribed  for  the  Liberator,  bought 
books  upon  the  subject,  and  was  intensely  interested  in 
all  the  work  of  Garrison  and  his  helpers. 


The  Abolitionists.  39 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   ABOLITIONISTS. 

"  RUTH,  my  love,  what  shall  we  read  to-night  ? " 

''  The  story  of  the  Abolitionists,"  answered  Ruth. 

Then  taking  from  his  little  store  of  books  the  one 
which  Ruth  had  mentioned,  he  read  the  following-  story: 

'  The  great  conflict  growing  out  of  slavery  in  the 
United  States  is  upon  us.  There  have  long  been  some 
men  in  this  and  other  lands  who  protested  against  the  en 
slavement  of  men  created  in  God's  image,  and  denounced 
the  wicked  practise  of  making  merchandise  of  human 
flesh. 

'  The  Friends,  or  Quakers,  as  early  as  1780  emanci 
pated  all  their  slaves  after  a  long  and  serious  contest. 
At  one  monthly  meeting,  eleven  hundred  slaves  were 
freed.  The  Friends  also  refused  to  hire  slave  labor  of 
the  masters.  Woolman,  Lay  and  Benezet  receive  honor 
able  mention  for  their  hostility  to  the  slave  system; 
nevertheless  it  gradually  extended  itself. 

'  The  early  Abolition  Societies  were  sleeping,  and 
Quakers  as  a  body  were  silent  concerning  the  subject 
because  of  the  great  profits  of  the  traffic  in  cotton,  when 
Benjamin  Lundy,  with  '  The  Genius  of  Universal  Eman 
cipation,'  aroused  the  conscience  of  some  to  the  dreadful 
cruelties  of  slavery." 

"  It's  terrible,"  said  Ruth,  "  that  the  Friends  ever  were 
at  ease  concerning  this  great  evil." 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  husband,  "  but  the  case  with  other 
people  has  been  still  worse." 

James  read  on :  "  An  age  of  prophets  and  philan 
thropists,  however,  is  now  at  hand.  As  God  thundered 
on  Sinai,  and  spoke  through  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  and  John 
the  Baptist,  so  now  again  He  raises  up  a  race  of  seers  to 


4O  Love  and  Liberty. 

warn  the  people,  and  speak  in  defense  of  righteousness 
and  freedom. 

"  Every  age  has  its  great  reformers.  This  age  is  pro 
ducing  a  band  of  men  who  echo  forth  the  divine  wrath 
with  Elijah-like  power  against  an  institution,  foul  and 
black  as  the  demons  of  the  pit. 

"  Foremost  in  the  heroic  conflict  stands  William  Lloyd 
Garrison.  When  the  nation  was  asleep,  the  State  mor 
ally  paralyzed,  and  the  pulpit  almost  dumb ;  when  greed 
and  avarice  had  denied  the  hearts  and  hands  of  the  peo 
ple,  there  was  heard  a  voice  out  of  the  thick  darkness, 
pleading  in  trumpet  tones  for  the  immediate  emancipa 
tion  of  the  slave.  Garrison  was  the  '  Daniel  come  to 
judgment.'  Born  in  old  Newburyport  in  1805,  close  to 
the  ancient  church  which  covers  the  bones  of  George 
Whitefield,  reared  by  a  deeply  religious  mother,  his 
father  a  prominent  sea  captain,  the  son  inherited  a  rever 
ence  for  God,  and  for  human  nature  in  His  image,  which 
aroused  his  stern  and  lofty  spirit  against  oppression. 

"  At  first  associated  with  Lundy  on  his  paper,  he  after 
ward  dissolved  partnership  with  his  friend,  went  to  Bos 
ton  and  started  the  Liberator  in  1831.  He  sought  in 
vain  to  interest  prominent  Boston  men  in  his  project. 
In  poverty,  with  a  holy  ambition  and  uncompromising 
purpose,  he  went  about  his  work  determined  to  publish 
the  paper  as  long  as  he  and  his  assistant  could  get  bread 
to  eat.  He  said,  when  advised  to  change  the  name  of 
his  paper  because  '  Liberator '  sounded  harsh,  '  /  will 
be  as  harsh  as  truth,  and  as  uncompromising  as  justice. 
I  am  in  earnest.  I  will  not  equivocate.  I  will  not  ex 
cuse.  I  will  not  retreat  a  single  inch,  and  I  will  be 
heard.  The  clanking  of  the  prisoner's  chains  breaks 
upon  my  ear,  and  has  deeply  entered  into  my  soul.  I 
look  to  heaven  for  strength  to  sustain  me  in  the  peril 
ous  work  of  emancipation.' 

"  Taking  the  Hebrew  prophets  and  Jesus  Christ  as  his 
models,  he  shot  his  broadsides  of  judgment  and  truth 
against  the  deadly  institution." 

"Isn't   he   a  glorious   man?"   interrupted   Ruth. 

"  \Vonderful,"  returned  James. 

"  He  is  raised  up  of  God  for  a  great  mission." 


The  Abolitionists.  41 

James  continued :  "  Gradually  other  men  and  women 
are  becoming  interested  in  this  cause  and  rallying  to  its 
support.  Lydia  Maria  Child,  Rev.  Amos  A.  Phelps, 
Arthur  Tappan  and  John  G.  Whittier,  with  others  of 
more  or  less  prominence,  have  espoused  heartily  the  anti- 
slavery  cause.  The  '  American  Anti-Slavery  Society  ' 
was  organized  in  1833. 

"  As  the  delegates  passed  through  the  '  City  of 
Brotherly  Love/  to  the  convention,  they  were  repeatedly 
assailed  with  most  insulting  words.  Sixty-two  delegates 
were  present  from  eleven  different  states.  A  '  Declara 
tion  of  Sentiments  '  was  adopted  which  states  that  the 
Society  trusts  for  victory  solely  in  God,  and  that  its 
principles  of  truth,  justice,  reason  and  humanity,  must 
and  will  gloriously  triumph.  John  G.  Whittier  says, 
this  '  Declaration/  full  of  strength  and  power,  will  live 
as  long  as  our  national  history,  and  that  he  sets  a  higher 
value  on  his  name  appended  to  it,  than  on  the  title  page 
of  any  book." 

"  Whittier's  poems,  I  hear  are  very  fine,"  said  Ruth. 
"  He  pleads  earnestly  for  the  cause  of  the  slave.  I  have 
seen  a  few  extracts  in  our  papers." 

"  I  believe  Whittier  is  destined  to  be  the  poet  of  free 
dom,"  exclaimed  James  as  he  continued  his  reading. 

"  J835  was  the  '  mob-year '  when  Garrison  was 
dragged  through  the  streets  of  cultured  (?)  Boston, 
barely  escaping  with  his  life,  and  the  post-office  at 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  was  broken  open  by  a  mob  in  order  to 
secure  some  important  publications  of  the  anti-slavery  so 
ciety,  which  were  taken  out  and  burned  in  the  presence 
of  the  exultant  crowd.  The  lives  of  Abolitionists  are 
not  safe  in  southern  states. 

"  At  a  meeting  called  in  Charleston  to  denounce  the 
'  incendiary  Abolitionists/  the  clergymen  of  all  denomi 
nations  attended  in  a  body  and  sanctioned  the  proceed 
ings  which  called  forth  from  Whittier  his  '  Clerical  Op 
pressors.' 

Just  God,  and  these  are  they 

Who  minister  at  thine  altar,  God  of  right, 

Men  who  their  hands  with  prayer  and  blessing  lay 
On  Israel's  ark  of  light. 


42  Love  and  Liberty. 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long, 

Shall  such  a  priesthood  barter  truth  away, 

And  in  Thy  name  for  robbery  and  wrong, 
At  Thine  own  altar  pray  ? 

"  O  James,"  again  interrupted  Ruth,  "  can  it  he  pos- 
sble  that  Christian  ministers  approve  the  terrible  curse 
of  slavery  ?  " 

"  It  is  only  too  true,"  returned  her  husband,  "  though 
not  all  ministers  approve  the  iniquitous  system.  Those 
were  ministers  in  the  South.  Hear  this  of  Dr.  Clian- 
ning. 

"  Rev.  William  Ellery  Channing,  while  not  wholly  ap 
proving  all  methods  of  action  by  the  Abolitionists,  gives 
them  unqualified  praise  for  their  brave  defense  of  free 
dom  of  speech.  He  says: 

"  '  To  them  is  committed  the  most  important  bulwark 
of  liberty,  and  they  have  acquitted  themselves  of  the 
trust  like  men  and  Christians.' ' 

"  Good  for  him."  exclaimed  Ruth.  ''  I  am  glad  he 
even  goes  as  far  as  that !  " 

James  read  on  : 

"  While  Garrison  was  in  jail,  Harriet  Martincau  at 
tended  an  Abolitionist  meeting  at  the  house  of  Francis 
Jackson  in  Boston,  where  she  said :  '  I  consider  slavery 
inconsistent  with  the  law  of  God,  and  incompatible  with 
His  Providence.'  Because  of  this,  she  was  ostracized  by 
the  elite  of  Boston,  who  had  before  courted  her  acquaint 
ance  ;  and  her  words  were  followed  by  a  tide  of  denun 
ciation  from  the  pro-slavery  party.  By  her  book,  '  The 
Martyr  Age  of  America,'  she  cheers  the  hearts  of  Aboli 
tionists  on  both  sides  of  the  ocean.  Other  helpers  and 
sympathizers  are  coming  to  the  front.  Gerrit  Smith, 
Joshua  Leavett,  James  G.  Birney,  Mrs.  Maria  W.  Chap 
man  and  Wendell  Phillips  are  outspoken  in  defense  of 
freedom. 

"  Since  that  December  day  in  1837,  when  Phillips 
spoke  so  eloquently  against  the  murder  of  Lovejoy  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  he  has  been  often  before  the  people.  The 
music  of  his  voice  charms  the  workers  in  the  cause  of 
freedom.  He  is  par  excellence  the  orator  of  this  move 
ment  thus  far.  Month  after  month,  the  announcement 


The  Abolitionists.  43 

that  he  is  to  speak  draws  crowds  in  city  or  country. 
The  self-denial  of  this  man  in  Freedom's  cause  is  marvel 
ous.  Turning  aside  from  the  honors  awaiting  him  at  the 
bar,  and  in  the  political  service  of  the  state  and  nation 
which  the  traditional  path  would  surely  bring  to  him,  at 
the  call  of  suffering  humanity,  he  regards  not  the  voice 
of  worldly  ambition,  but  gives  his  great  po\vers  of  mind 
and  body  to  the  cause  of  the  oppressed.  With  natural 
endowments  of  a  high  order,  the  ripest  culture  of  schol 
arship  and  social  life  which  America  can  give,  he  lays 
all  on  the  altar  of  Freedom. 

'  This  movement  is  destined  to  succeed.  It  is  the 
cause  of  righteousness,  to  which  God  gives  His  aid.  We 
cannot  tell  in  just  what  way  the  final  result  will  be  ac 
complished,  but  we  are  sure  that  this  cause  will  not  fail 
to  free  the  downtrodden  and  oppressed  slave.  Some 
think  that  the  nation  will  have  to  pass  through  the 
bloody  scourge  of  war,  but  we  pray  that  God  may  avert 
such  a  doom.  You  who  read  this  are  living  in  a  grand 
and  awful  time.  The  rule  of  the  oppressor  must  be 
broken  and  God  yet  rule  among  the  sons  of  men." 

James  ceased  and  looked  up  into  the  face  of  his  wife. 
It  was  glowing  with  a  heavenly  light,  and  her  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears.  She  had  been  charmed  with  the  music 
of  her  husband's  voice,  and  her  soul  thrilled  at  the  de 
lineation  of  the  facts  concerning  the  struggle  for  human 
liberty.  Many  of  these  things  she  had  known  before, 
but  placed  before  her  mind  in  this  concise  way,  with  the 
added  magic  of  her  husband's  voice,  they  greatly  im 
pressed  her.  She  also  rejoiced  that  her  people,  the 
Friends,  bore  such  an  honorable  part  in  this  movement. 

"  Dost  thou  like  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  the  answer,  "  it  stirs  my  soul.  I  like 
anything  which  lifts  men  up  and  makes  them  better.  I 
rejoice,  my  husband,  that  thou  are  an  advocate  of 
emancipation.  May  God  speed  the  right,"  and  they 
kissed  each  other  as  the  clock  struck  ten. 


44  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SORROW. 

ONE  evening  Ruth  said,  "  Get  thy  chair  a  little  closer, 
James.  Let  me  tell  thee  that  I  think  God  will  suffer 
thee  to  have  some  sorrow  which  may  be  bitter,  but  He  will 
give  thee  grace  to  bear  it.  We  are  so  happy,  1  have 
a  feeling  that  our  joy  cannot  always  last." 

"Hush,  my  own  true  love!  Xo  such  talk  as  this. 
We  are  just  beginning  a  happy  life,  which  God  grant 
may  last  a  long  while." 

"  James,"  said  she,  "  thee  knows  that  I  think  by  and 
by,  these  happy  days  will  be  glad  memories  to  thy  heart, 
and  nerve  thee  ever  to  do  a  true  man's  work.  I  love 
thee  so  I  would  always  be  thy  helper,  but  if  this  may 
not  be,  yet  thou  wilt  surely  have  true  joy." 

He  caught  her  hands  and  drew  her  towards  him. 
Yea,  he  placed  her  on  his  knees  and  clasped  her  close  to 
his  heart  and  kissed  again  and  again  that  lovely  face  so 
full  of  innocence  and  purity. 

"  Ruth,  thee  must  not  talk  like  this.  Thou  art  all  the 
world  to  me.  When  I  think  that  I,  a  worse  than  orphan 
boy,  with  every  disadvantage  in  life,  like  Jacob  with 
everything  against  me,  have  won  this  precious  jewel  for 
mine  own,  my  heart  is  glad.  Let  us  believe  that  Go.l 
will  spare  us  to  each  other  and  make  us  always  happy." 

She  laid  her  face  against  his  face  and  soothed  him 
gently,  saying :  "  Jamie,  love,  don't  worry,  we  belong  to 
God  and  God  is  good." 

But  there  were  joyous  hours  of  laughter  and  pleasure. 
Thanksgiving  day,  they  went  to  Ruth's  home,  and  there 
in  the  old  time  style  had  a  grand  New  England  dinner. 
Turkey,  browned  and  fine,  spare  ribs  from  a  young 
porker,  cranberry  sauce  and  pumpkin  pie,  fit  for  a  king. 


Sorrow.  45 

It  was  a  merry  Thanksgiving,  with  something  of 
license  for  a  Quaker  home,  and  Quakers  are  happy  peo 
ple  in  their  way.  The  day  was  another  joyous  mile 
stone  along  our  hero's  path. 

Ruth's  brothers  and  sisters  joined  in  merry,  innocent 
sports,  and  James,  so  proud  and  glad  and  full  of  fun, 
actually  dressed  up  in  some  old  clothes,  and  palmed  him 
self  off  for  a  beggar  at  the  twilight  hour,  exciting  their 
sympathy,  and  was  convulsed  with  laughter  when  they 
found  him  out. 

Christmas,  James  and  Ruth  spent  at  their  own  home, 
for  the  Friends  make  little  of  Christmas.  Not  because 
they  do  not  love  the  thought  of  Jesus'  birth,  but  be 
cause  to  them  it  savors  of  popery  and  outward  show 
to  celebrate  the  Saviour's  birthday  like  a  joyous  holiday. 

That  night,  James  read  to  Ruth  the  story  of  His 
birth  who  set  all  joy-bells  ringing,  and  brought  to  men 
gladness  and  every  good  which  hearts  of  true  men  crave. 
So,  thankfully  James  and  his  beloved  Ruth  observed 
Christmas. 

The  days  sped  on  and  the  winter  \vas  soon  gone,  all 
too  soon,  they  both  thought,  and  the  anniversary  of  their 
marriage-day  drew  near. 

"  What  shall  I  give  thee,  love,  for  an  anniversary 
present  ?  "  asked  James  one  day. 

"  I  think,  perhaps,"  said  Ruth  with  rosy  face  and  a 
merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "  the  present  will  be  from  me 
to  thee." 

"  Saucy  girl,"  said  James,  as  he  kissed  her  blushing 
face.  "  You  are  worthy  of  the  grandest  gift  that  man 
can  make  to  woman." 

He  had  thought  about  it  many  days,  and  from  his 
little  store  purchased  a  beautiful  volume  of  John  G. 
Whittier's  earlier  poems,  at  that  time  beginning  to  at 
tract  attention ;  and  with  the  little  book  all  blue  and  gold, 
carried  it  that  morning  of  their  anniversary  to  his  year- 
old  bride.  It  was  a  simple  present  but  meant  much  to 
him.  She  took  the  book  and  thanked  him,  kissed  her 
husband,  pressed  the  book  to  her  lips  and  called  him 
"  Jamie  dear,"  which  term  of  endearment  she  rarely 
used,  as  Friends  call  persons  by  their  full  names.  He 


46  Love  and  Liberty. 

looked  upon  that  lovely  face  and  it  was  marked  with 
pain. 

"  My  darling1,  can  I  help  thee?  " 

"  O,  James,  my  hour  is  come,  and  this  is  our  wedding 
anniversary." 

He  kissed  her  again,  summoned  a  physician  and  her 
mother,  and  all  through  the  day  they  gently  cared  for 
her.  The  evening  hours  came  on,  and  before  the  clock 
struck  nine,  two  boys  were  born.  One  scarcely  breathed 
and  died.  The  other  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night  with 
his  infant  cry,  sending  a  strange  thrill  to  the  father's 
heart.  The  mother,  utterly  exhausted,  turned  her  eyes 
to  James,  and  faintly  whispered,  "His  name  is 
Samuel !  " 

The  physician  administered  a  strengthening  draught, 
and  Ruth  closed  her  eyes,  and  for  a  brief  time  appeared 
to  be  easily  resting.  Later  she  called  for  James.  He 
kissed  the  white  lips ;  that  beautiful  smile  with  the  love- 
light  \vas  on  her  face.  Those  dark,  rich  eyes  looked 
straight  into  his  owrn. 

"  Jamie,  dear,  I  am  dying.  Thou  hast  been  a  good 
husband.  Be  brave  and  strong.  Teach  little  Samuel  to 
remember  his  mother.  I  hear  the  music  of  the  angels ; 
I  am  going  to  my  heavenly  home.  Farewell,  my  love, 
farewell !  " 

In  whispers  broken,  she  had  said  these  words.  James 
was  overcome  with  grief. 

"  Ruth,  my  own  true  love,  thou  shalt  not,  must  not 
die ;  thou  wilt  be  better  soon  ;  see,  the  doctor  comes. 
Look  up,  my  darling,  I  am  thine  own  Jamie !  " 

He  kissed  her  again  and  again ;  he  held  her  hand ;  he 
prayed :  "  O,  God,  have  mercy  and  spare  my  precious 
wife;  she  is  all  the  world  to  me.  O  Father,  hear  my 
prayer."  He  sobbed  aloud  and  called  her  every  endear 
ing  name,  but  all  in  vain.  Her  last  fond  look  was  on 
him  as  she  sweetly  smiled  and  died.  He  gazed  upon 
that  white  face,  so  beautiful  even  in  death,  and  sat  like 
one  in  a  dream ;  then  frantic,  and  despairing,  he  gave  a 
sharp  shrill  cry  and  left  the  room.  Out  into  the  night 
he  went,  aimlessly,  wailing,  wild  and  desperate  in  his 
grief.  His  heart  was  torn,  crushed  and  bleeding. 


Sorrow.  47 

"  O  God,  my  Father,  was  it  for  this  I  won  my  bride? 
Was  it  for  this  we  looked  forward  to  our  anniversary 
day?  Was  it  for  this  that  I  was  born?  My  wife!  my 
darling !  Ruth,  Ruth,  my  Love !  I  call  for  thee ;  come 
back  to  James  !  " 

He  clutched  his  hands  in  agony,  and  tore  his  hair ;  he 
went  unconsciously  from  place  to  place  raving  like  a 
madman,  recklessly,  filled  with  unspeakable  grief, 
wildly  wrestling  like  Jacob  with  some  unseen  Being. 
He  called  again  and  again  in  the  stillness  of  the  spring 
night  for  God  to  strike  him  dead,  and  take  him  hence. 

"  God  in  heaven,"  he  cried,  "  let  me  go  to  Ruth,  my 
life  is  broken,  my  heart  torn  asunder,  my  spirit  utterly 
crushed.  Mercy,  O,  God,  let  me  die,  I  cannot  live  with 
out  Ruth ;  why  have  I  lived  to  see  this  day  ?  Better  a 
thousand  times  that  I  had  never  seen  the  light !  " 

How  long  he  wandered,  he  never  knew.  They 
searched  for  him  in  the  chill  night  and  found  him  by  the 
garden  gate  where  a  rose-bush  grew,  planted  one  year 
ago  from  that  other  bush,  where  on  that  first  glad  day, 
she  plucked  those  ro'ses  for  him.  The  doctor  said :  "  Mr. 
Fuller,  we  are  very  sorry  for  you.  All  was  done  that 
could  be  done  to  save  your  wife ;  the  shock  was  too  great 
for  her  strength ;  the  little  dead  babe'  lies  by  his  mother. 
Little  Samuel  is  dressed  in  baby  clothes  and  is  sleeping. 
You  have  him  to  comfort  you  ;  do  not  despair,  my  friend." 

He  took  James  by  the  arm  and  led  him  into  the  house. 
They  passed  beneath  the  jessamine  bower,  even  now 
putting  forth  its  buds,  where  he  and  Ruth  had  often  sat 
together  in  the  twilight  hour. 

James  looked  upon  the  dead  faces  of  his  wife  and 
child,  glanced  at  the  sleeping  boy  and  went  to  his  room. 
He  walked  the  floor,  raved  and  prayed,  like  Job  cursing 
the  day  wherein  he  was  born.  He  could  not  sleep,  but 
at  length  grew  more  quiet,  sat  down  and  closed  his  eyes 
and  saw  a  radiance  in  the  room.  Ruth  was  with  him 
clothed  in  beauty,  accompanied  with  shining  spirits. 
Smiling  sweetly,  she  said :  "  Fear  not,  James,  I  will  bless 
thee  still !  " 

We  cannot  linger  over  the  following  clays.  A  new- 
made  grave  in  the  Friends'  burying  ground,  a  desolate 


48  Love  and  Liberty. 

home,  a  little  babe  named  Samuel  at  the  Grover  home 
stead,  and  a  broken-hearted  husband  and  father.  He 
planted  the  rose-bush  by  the  garden  gate,  on  the  grave 
of  his  wife  and  child,  stored  his  furniture  in  a  room  of 
his  late  happy  home,  and,  taking  a  small  bundle  in  his 
hand,  bade  farewell  to  the  place  where  one  happy  year 
of  life  had  been,  ending  in  the  deepest  sorrow  which 
ever  came  to  human  hearts.  In  the  bundle  which  he 
carried  was  a  book  of  poems,  blue  and  gold,  and  between 
the  leaves  were  pressed  the  faded  roses  which  Ruth  had 
given  him  that  happy  night  which  seemed  so  long  ago! 


Glentown.  49 


CHAPTER  XI. 

GLENTOWN. 

AN  hundred  miles  from  the  scenes  of  James  Fuller's 
early  life,  there  is  a  beautiful  town  in  Massachusetts. 
In  this  old  town  the  people  were  largely  farmers 
seventy-five  years  ago,  but  as  the  years  passed  on,  manu 
facturing  industries  were  established  here  and  there,  and 
villages,  some  large,  some  small,  grew  up  through  all  the 
picturesque  valley.  The  scenery  of  the  section  is  rarely 
beautiful.  Not  lar  from  the  center  is  a  large:  wild,  rocky 
ravine  called  Purgatory.  The  Red  man  formerly  built 
his  wigwam  just  above  the  brink  upon  the  plain,  and 
chased  the  bears,  deer  and  wolves  through  the  dark 
ravine,  bounding  from  rock  to  rock  with  agile  strength, 
uttering  his  wild  yell  in  the  solitude  of  the  primeval 
forest.  The  massive  cliffs  stand  out  in  bold  relief,  and 
towering  oaks  and  hemlocks,  spruce  and  pine,  raise  their 
lofty  heights  skyward,  while  a  mountain  torrent  dashes 
down  the  cliff  and  breaks  in  white  foam  into  the  rocky 
gorge.  It  would  seem  that  the  very  rocks  might  tell 
weird  and  strange  tales  of  bygone  days,  when  man  and 
beast  had  roamed  among  its  winding  passages,  and  the 
deep  sepulchral  echoes  ascended  along  its  precipitous 
sides.  There  had  perished  the  Professor's  wife  and 
many  had  come  to  view  the  fatal  spot. 

In  1835,  Willard  Aldrich,  a  young  man  of  twenty-two 
years,  was  learning  the  carpenter's  trade  in  Glentown. 
Many  times  had  he  visited  the  wild  ravine  in  his  native 
town  and  reveled  in  its  grandeur.  This  young  man 
came  of  humble  parentage ;  his  father,  for  many  years  a 
small  farmer,  managed  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door, 
but  nothing  more,  and  one  day,  disconsolate  in  some 
mad  mood,  ran  away  from  home,  and  was  never  seen  in 
those  parts  again.  The  wife  and  mother  died  a  few 


5o  •         Love  and  Liberty. 

years  later,  leaving  the  children  to  struggle  on  alone. 
Willard  was  one  of  the  older  boys,  and  at  twenty-one 
left  the  farm,  and  apprenticed  himself  to  a  carpenter. 
One  day  on  his  way  to  Providence,  he  put  up  over 
night  with  a  man  named  Rice,  and  fell  in  love  with 
Margaret,  the  daughter,  just  seven  years  his  junior, 
whom  he  married  three  years  later.  Margaret  was  an 
energetic  woman  with  great  persistency  of  purpose,  and 
devotedly  attached  to  her  husband.  She  was  often  men 
tioned  as  a  model  girl  before  marriage  because  of  her 
neat,  orderly  and  tidy  ways,  by  the  careful  mothers  of 
that  section  who  sought  to  train  their  daughters  to  habits 
of  neatness  and  industry. 

"  Margaret  Rice  would  never  be  seen  with  a  rent  in 
her  dress  or  buttons  missing  from  her  clothes,"  was  the 
message  flung  at  many  girls  inclined  to  slatternly  ways. 
All  the  virtues  of  this  girl  were  carried  into  her  own 
home,  and  she  made  Willard  an  excellent  wife,  who 
justly  thought  he  had  won  a  prize.  And,  withal,  Mar 
garet  was  something  of  a  beauty.  A  comely  face  and 
form,  with  dimples  in  both  cheeks,  and  roses  like  the 
dawn,  while  her  eyes  were  dark  and  bright  and  captured 
many  young  men  with  their  bewitching  glance.  But 
after  Willard  came,  the  young  fellows  had  no  chance 
with  the  country  maid,  for  Margaret  loved  the  smart, 
capable  youth  from  the  very  first. 

As  I  write,  it  comes  to  mind  that  Margaret  at  fifty- 
five  would  blush  as  easily  as  a  virgin  lass,  and  the 
dimples  play  in  merriment  about  her  face. 

This  industrious  couple  settled  in  one  of  the  large  vil 
lages  which  sprung  up  in  Glentown,  where  Willard 
found  plenty  of  work  at  his  trade. 

It  was  the  custom,  when  the  day's  work  was  done,  for 
the  neighbors  to  come  in  for  a  chat  concerning  various 
matters  of  interest  in  the  community,  and  the  discussion 
of  politics. 

It  was  never  known  exactly  why,  but  Frank  Noble, 
a  man  of  considerable  importance,  selectman  of  the  town, 
often  called  at  Willard's  home  for  such  purpose.  It 
may  be  because  young  Aldrich  was  well  read  on  current 
topics,  or  because  there  was  something  attractive  in  the 


Glentown.  31 

bustling1  young  carpenter  or  his  wife,  that  fascinated 
Noble. 

One  evening,  quite  a  company  had  assembled. 

"  Liberator  come  ?  "  asked  Noble. 

"  Has  it,  Margaret?" 

"  Yes,  here  it  is,"  answered  Margaret. 

"  Garrison's  stirring  up  things  lively." 

"  So  they  say ;  what's  up  now  ?  " 

"  O,"  replied  Noble,  "  it's  over  those  petitions  to 
Congress  that  the  slaves  be  set  free  in  the  District  of 
Columbia.  You  know  they've  passed  resolutions  refus 
ing  to  receive  such  petitions.  John  Quincy  Adams  says 
they  are  "  gag-rules,"  which  forbid  debate  and  are  con 
trary  to  the  Constitution.  He  insists  on  presenting  every 
petition.  One  day  he  had  two  hundred  of  them,  and  the 
Southerners  cried,  '  Treason ;  put  him  out,'  but  it  makes 
no  difference  to  him.  Garrison  is  letting  into  those 
slaveholding  Congressmen  in  great  shape." 

"  He's  just  as  hard  on  Northern  men  who  defend 
slavery,"  said  Willard.  "  He  says  the  contempt  and 
prejudices  of  Northern  men  are  harder  to  deal  with  than 
those  of  the  slaveholder." 

"  Garrison's  too  hot-headed,"  replied  Noble.  "  He's 
rightly  named  '  Mad-cap  Garrison.'  He  says  if  the 
negro  can  be  freed  without  destroying  the  Union,  well 
and  good ;  if  not,  break  up  the  Union  and  liberate  the 
slaves." 

"I  think  he's  all  right,"  returned  Willard.  "  His  idea 
is  that  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  would  hasten  the  lib 
eration  of  the  slaves." 

"  Look  at  that  sentence  in  the  Liberator,  denounc 
ing  the  Constitution  as  '  a  covenant  with  death,  and  an 
agreement  with  hell ; '  isn't  it  true?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  believe  that's  the  way  to  talk  about 
onr  Constitution.  It's  a  grand  document  and  the  best 
that  could  be  obtained  at  the  time.  It  was  a  question  of 
Union  with  slavery  then,  or  no  Union  at  all ;  and  those 
men  who  secured  its  adoption,  will  always  have  the  grati 
tude  of  their  countrymen." 

"  I  admit,"  said  Willard,  "  its  general  excellent  fea 
tures,  but  there  is  no  doubt  but  what  it  upholds  slavery 


52  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  slavery  is  morally  wrong,  and  no  legal  enactment 
can  possibly  make  it  right." 

"  Some  people  think  that  Garrison's  crazy,  anyway. 
I  don't  believe  in  slavery  as  you  well  know,  but  object 
to  the  crazy  methods  of  the  Abolitionists.  No  good  can 
come  of  it.  Dr.  Channing  tells  Daniel  Webster  that  we 
should  say  to  the  South :  '  We  consider  slavery  as  your 
calamity,  not  your  crime,  and  will  share  with  you  the 
burden  of  putting  an  end  to  it! ' ' 

"  Channing  wrote  that  to  Webster  more  than  ten 
years  ago.  I  think  he's  got  further  along  since  then. 
Don't  you  remember  how  he  persisted  in  getting  Fanueil 
Hall  to  publicly  condemn  the  Lovejoy  murder  when 
Wendell  Phillips  surprised  the  people  with  his  ad 
vocacy  of  the  Abolition  cause?  By  the  way,  Phillips  is 
to  lecture  here  next  week,  so  the  Liberator  says." 

"I  noticed  that,"  said  Xoble.  "but  as  to  ("hanirng's 
position,  he  thinks  that  the  United  States  should  appropri 
ate  money  from  the  sale  of  pubic  land,  buy  the  slaves 
from  their  owners  and  set  them  free.  England  bought 
the  West  India  slaves  recently  and  freed  them,  you  know, 
at  a  cost  of  one  hundred  million  dollars." 

"  I  think  that  such  action  would  be  a  compromise  with 
sin,"  returned  Willard.  "  I  hold  with  Garrison,  that 
slavery  being  wrong,  we  cannot  morally  compromise  with 
it  in  any  way,  and  this  belief  is  spreading.  We  have 
nearly  two  thousand  societies  in  the  North  now  for  its 
abolition,  and  I  prophesy  that  the  dreadful  institution  will 
soon  be  overthrown.  It  makes  my  blood  run  cold  to  read 
of  some  of  the  dreadful  atrocities  of  this  system." 

"  Och,  be  jabers !  it's  no  worse  nor  the  slavery  in  Old 
Ireland  by  the  English,"  said  Pat  Quinn  from  the  chimney 
corner.  Be  it  known  that  Pat  was  a  friendly  fellow  who 
helped  Willard  on  some  of  his  contracts  as  a  laborer. 

"  Well,  we're  not  responsible  for  Ireland,  Pat,  but  we 
are  for  our  own  country,"  said  Willard. 

Peter  Nichols,  a  dark-browed,  sinister-looking  man, 
was  there  that  night,  and  spoke :  "  I  don't  agree  with 
you,  Aldrich.  Slavery's  all  right.  The  niggers  are 
more'n  half  animals  and  only  fit  to  be  slaves.  What's  the 
nigger  good  for,  anyhow,  except  to  lie  and  steal  ?  There's 


Glentown.  53 

Black  Joe,  a  'tarnal  reprobate  as  everybody  knows. 
What's  Edward  Everett,  your  Governor,  say  ?  Ain't  he  a 
smart  man  enough?  And  can't  he  take  the  wind  out  o' 
the  sails  of  your  Wendell  Phillips?  I've  got  a  little  slip 
in  my  pocket  I'll  read  to  you,"  and  Peter  fished  out  of  his 
vest  pocket  a  newspaper  clipping  which  read  as  follows : 
"  These  daredevil  Abolitionists  would  better  keep  still. 
Our  noble  Governor  Everett  said  as  early  as  1826,  on  the 
floor  of  Congress,  that  '  there  was  no  cause  in  which  he 
would  sooner  buckle  a  knapsack  to  his  back  and  put  a 
musket  on  his  shoulder  than  that  of  putting  down  a  servile 
insurrection  in  the  South.  The  great  relation  of  servi 
tude  in  some  form  or  other  with  greater  or  Ies3  depar 
ture  from  the  theoretic  equality  of  men  is  inseparable  from 
our  nature.  Domestic  slavery  is  not,  in  my  judgment,  to 
be  set  down  as  an  immoral  and  irreligious  relation.  It  is 
a  condition  of  life  as  well  as  any  other  to  be  justified  by 
morality,  religion  and  international  law.'  In  his  recent 
message,  he  said :  '  Whatever  is  calculated  to  excite  an 
insurrection  among  the  slaves,  has  been  held  by  highly 
respectable  legal  authority,  an  offense  against  the  people 
of  the  Commonwealth,  which  may  be  prosecuted  as  a  mis 
demeanor  at  common  law.  The  patriotism  of  all  classes 
must  be  invoked  to  abstain  from  a  discussion  which  can 
have  no  other  effect  than  by  exasperating  the  master  to 
render  oppressive  the  condition  of  the  slave,  and  which, 
if  not  abandoned,  there  is  great  reason  to  fear  will  prove 
a  rock  on  which  the  Union  will  split.'  When  a  man  like 
Governor  Everett  gives  expression  to  such  sentiments  as 
these,  it's  high  time  that  '  Madcap  Garrison '  and  his 
crowd  shut  their  mouths.  The  niggers  were  made  for 
slaves,  and  the  P>ible  upholds  slavery."  "  There,"  ex 
claimed  Peter,  as  he  finished  reading,  '*  that's  my  opinion 
exactly.  Hooray  for  Gov.  Everett ;  he's  the  man  for  me  !  " 
"  Peter,"  answered  Margaret,  with  a  ring  in  her 
voice,  "  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  and  I'm  ashamed  of  Gov. 
Everett,  too,  if  he  gives  utterance  to  such  sentiments 
as  those,  and  he  a  son  of  the  Puritans!  I'd  never  have 
thought  it.  It  seems  like  a  dreadful  thing  that  such  an 
able,  eloquent  man  should  be  in  league  with  the  slave- 
holding  power,  and  further  help  to  bind  the  chains  upon 


54  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  heart-broken  slave.  Look  at  that  picture.  Peter 
Nichols,"  and  she  thrust  the  Liberator  before  his  eyes. 
"  See  that  auction  block  where  they're  selling  men,  women 
and  children  like  cows  and  sheep.  Look  at  those  crying 
children  and  those  heart-broken  mothers  and  your  fine 
Christian  white  people  standing  by,  bidding  'em  off,  and 
the  auctioneer  crying,  'Going!  going!  gone!  and  sold.' 
Sold  to  whom?  Sold  to  the  men  that  make  your  prayers 
in  churches,  that  preach  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  that 
pray  in  their  families  for  help  from  heaven,  that  build 
your  churches.  Look  at  it,  Peter  Nichols,  and  thank  God 
that  your  children  are  white  instead  of  black,  and  that 
you  live  in  Massachusetts  instead  of  Virginia !  "  and 
Margaret's  dark  eyes  snapped  and  burned  like  fire  before 
the  astounded  Peter. 

*'  Sure  and  ye've  give  him  a  good  un,  Mistress  Aldrich  ; 
belabor  him  agin,  for  he  needs  it,  the  spalpeen.  Dinna 
I  see  him  kick  Black  Joe  in  the  ribs,  be  gorry,  the  other 
day,  jist  because  he  said  a  word  to  his  young  Bill.  Och, 
be  jabcrs,  ye  did  it  well,  ye  did!  "  and  the  jolly  Irishman 
was  convulsed  with  laughter. 

"  Bravo,"  cried  Noble.  "  Really,  Margaret,  I  didn't 
suppose  you  were  so  plucky.  While  I  don't  agree  with 
you  in  everything,  I  admire  your  courage  and  grit.  Pete, 
I  reckon  you've  met  your  match  this  time." 

Willard  looked  at  Margaret,  his  face  aglow  with  pride 
and  joy,  and  in  his  earnest  way  said:  "Margaret,  my 
dear,  you  make  me  proud  to-night ;  God  speed  our  efforts 
to  liberate  the  slave." 

Peter  Nichols  seized  his  hat  without  a  word,  and  left 
the  house,  slamming  the  door  behind  him. 

The  next  week,  Wendell.  Phillips  came  to  Glentown. 
As  was  the  universal  rule  in  those  days  when  the  great 
Abolitionist  lectured,  the  town  hall  was  crowded  to  the 
doors.  People  stood  in  the  aisles  and  a  column  reached 
out  upon  the  steps.  Willard  and  Margaret  went  early  so 
as  to  secure  good  seats.  Mr.  Noble  and  friend  Pat  sat 
near  them.  When  the  orator  was  introduced,  a  tumult 
of  applause,  mingled  with  hisses,  came  from  the  audi 
ence.  Then  Phillips  gave  one  of  his  masterly  addresses  on 
the  question  of  human  liberty,  which  stirred  the  hearts  of 


Glentown.  55 

the  listeners.  He  spoke  of  the  battle  they  were  lighting 
at  desperate  odds,  with  every  weapon  that  ability  or  igno 
rance,  wealth  or  prejudice,  could  command  against  them, 
declaring  that  the  guns  were  shotted  to  their  lips,  and 
arrows  poisoned.  He  stated  that  their  clients  were  four 
million  slaves,  standing  dumb  suppliants  at  the  thresh 
old  of  the  Christian  world,  with  no  voice  but  that  of  the 
Abolitionists  to  utter  their  complaints  or  to  demand  jus 
tice.  The  press,  the  pulpit,  the  wealth,  the  literature, 
the  prejudices  and  the  political  arrangements  he  declared 
were  all  against  them,  and  their  only  weapon  was  the 
truth  faithfully  uttered  and  addressed,  with  the  directness 
of  the  old  prophets  to  the  conscience  "of  the  individual 
sinner.  He  described  the  dreadful  institution  which  sold 
human  beings  at  auction,  separating  husband  and  wife, 
took  the  infant  from  his  mother,  sold  women  to  prostitu 
tion,  and  denied  the  Bible  by  statute  to  every  sixth  person 
of  the  population.  He  said  the  South  was  one  great 
brothel  and  that  the  public  squares  of  half  our  great 
cities  echoed  to  the  wail  of  families  torn  asunder  by  the 
auction  block.  "  The  press  says,  '  It's  all  right !  '  and  the 
pulpit  says  '  Amen ! '  He  declared  that  the  Garrisonian 
movement  had  caused  the  whole  question  to  be  thor 
oughly  investigated  and  argued,  and  said  that  the  battle 
of  liberty  was  on,  and  no  true  man  should  shrink  from  his 
duty  in  the  momentous  crisis. 

"  So,  if  you  will,  cover  me  with  odium,  shower  your 
arrows  upon  me  from  every  quarter,  the  rostrum,  the 
press  and  the  pulpit,  I  will  willingly  and  gladly  bear  it 
all,  if  I  may  only  take  the  slave  by  the  hand  and  lift  him 
up  to  an  equality  with  myself." 

He  ceased.  The  audience,  carried  along  by  the  imperial 
sweep  of  the  orator's  superb  eloquence,  burst  into 
thunders  of  applause,  long  continued. 

Our  friends  were  scarcely  conscious  of  mortal  presence. 
And  Margaret !  you  should  have  seen  her !  She  sat  trans 
fixed  by  the  magnetism  of  the  speaker,  her  very  soul 
thrilled  with  the  pictures  he  had  thrust  upon  her  spiritual 
vision.  She  saw  it  all,  the  grandeur  of  this  lofty  cause. 
Was  it  possible  that  men  could  enslave  their  fellow-men 
and  call  themselves  by  the  name  of  Christ.? 


56  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Saints  presarve  us,  wasn't  he  foine.  I  reckon  yer 
Mr.  Phillips  is  eq'al  to  Dan'l  O'Connell  himself;  if  he 
is  a  Yankee,  God  bless  'im !  " 

It  was  our  friend  Pat  who  brought  Margaret  back  to 
her  senses,  and  the  party  slowly  wended  their  way  home. 


Rachel.  57 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RACHEL. 

"ISN'T  she  a  darling-?"  asked  Margaret. 

"  Just  glorious,"  answered  Willard. 

"  See  what  a  quantity  of  dark  hair,"  continued  Mar 
garet. 

"  What  perfect  fingers !  Look  at  those  little  nails,  and 
how  she  clutches  my  hand,"  responded  Willard. 

"  There  was  never  anything  equal  to  her,"  whispered 
Margaret. 

Mrs.  Nye,  the  nurse,  said :  "  She  has  an  awfully  red 
face." 

"  Mrs.  Nye,  I'm  surprised  that  you  should  speak  that 
way ;  she  is  a  very  beautiful  child,"  spoke  up  Margaret. 

"  She'll  have  great  luck,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  born  with 
a  veil." 

"  How  thankful  I  am,"  said  Willard.  "  I  always  knew 
Margaret  was  above  the  common  order.  Think  of  that, 
my  dear,  the  doctor  says  she'll  have  great  luck !_" 

"  I'm  so  glad,"  spoke  Margaret,  faintly. 

"  You  must  all  stop  talking,  and  quiet  down,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  Mrs.  Aldrich  is  much  exhausted." 

Willard  went  out  of  the  room,  and  now  that  the  im 
portant  arrival  had  come,  he  decided  to  spend  a  little 
time  with  his  men  at  the  house  he  was  building.  Pat 
Quinn  saw  him  coming. 

"  Saints  presarve  us,  is  it  a  gal,  yer  honor  ?  "  ques 
tioned  the  loquacious  Irishman. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Willard,  "  we  have  a  darling  girl 
at  our  house,  only  a  few  hours  old.  Pat,  I'm  seriously 
thinking  of  raising  your  wages." 

"  No  objection  to  that,  be  jabers,  only  don't  take  it  all 
out  in  thinking,"  responded  Pat. 


58  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  \Yell !  well !  we'll  see,  we'll  see,"  answered  Willard. 
"  Sam,  how  are  you  and  Henry  getting  on  with  the 
house  ?  " 

"  First  rate,  Mr.  Aldrich,  we  have  it  all  covered  in. 
We'll  begin  on  the  partitions  now ;  you  have  the  plans, 
I  believe,"  said  Sam  Clark. 

"  Congratulations  on  your  girl,  though  I  believe  boys 
are  more  valuable,"  broke  in  Henry  Xye. 

'  This  is  a  remarkable  girl ;  the  doctor  says  she'll  be 
very  lucky,  born  with  a  veil,  you  know,  certainly  better, 
yes,  much  better  than  a  boy.  I've  always  been  partial 
to  girls,"  replied  Willard. 

"  Och,  be  gorry,  I  never  seed  a  gal  baby  cud  come  up 
to  the  by's,  niver  a  bit.  I'll  bet  ye  my  Tim'll  take  the 
shine  all  out  ov  yer  gal,  Boss,"  chimed  in  Pat. 

"  Pat,  Pat,  don't  talk  so.  Boys  are  not  to  be  men 
tioned  in  the  same  breath  with  this  remarkable  daughter. 
We  are  very,  very  happy.  I  believe  I'll  let  you  all  take 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  call  it  full  time,"  said  Willard. 

"  Three  chairs  for  the  little  gal !  "  shouted  Pat.  "  Holy 
Yargin,  who'd  a  thot  it,  and  what'll  Tim  say  to  see  his 
daddy  hum  so  soon  to-night,  be  jabers,"  and  the  good- 
natured  Irishman  swung  his  hat  high  in  the  air. 

"  We're  much  obliged  to  you,  Aldrich,"  said  Henry. 

"  Ditto,"  said  Sam,  as  they  put  up  their  tools  and  pre 
pared  to  leave  until  the  next  morning. 

Willard  attended  to  a  few  small  matters  about  the 
building,  and  went  back  home. 

The  next  morning,  the  important  matter  of  a  name  was 
discussed. 

"  I  have  a  name,  Willard,  dear,  if  it  suits  you,"  said 
Margaret. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  questioned  her  husband. 

"  Rachel,  after  mother.  I  always  thought  it  a  beauti 
ful  name,  and  it's  in  the  Bible,  you  know." 

"  So  'tis,  to  be  sure.  Wouldn't  Margie  be  good,  after 
you,  my  wife?"  replied  Willard. 

"  One  Margaret  in  the  family  is  enough,"  was  the 
answer.  "  If  we  name  her  Rachel,  perhaps  she'll  be  very 
good.  Don't  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes  of  course  I  like  it.     Rachel,  my  daughter, 


Rachel.  59 

how  are  you  ? "  and  Willard  looked  at  the  sleeping 
beauty,  who  suddenly  commenced  to  cry. 

"  Hush,  darling !  Nurse,  what  kind  of  a  nose  do  you 
call  that  ?  " 

"  Roman,  to  be  sure.  I  should  think  you'd  be  posted 
on  noses,"  replied  Mrs.  Nye. 

"  How  should  I  be  posted  ?  This  is  the  first  baby  we've 
had,"  returned  Willard. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  little  hump  on  the  nose  ?  That 
means  she'll  be  very  smart,  and  a  great  worker,"  said 
Mrs.  Nye. 

"  That's  fortunate,"  returned  Willard. 

"  Are  those  piano  fingers  ?  "  he  continued. 

"  Piano  fingers !  Why,  Willard  Aldrich,  do  you  think 
you'll  buy  her  a  pianoforte  ?  "  asked  Margaret. 

"  Why  not  ?  They're  great  musical  instruments,  and 
business  is  pretty  good,  my  darling." 

"  O  Willard,  you  act  too  silly  for  anything.  Rachel 
have  a  pianoforte,  indeed !  One  would  think  we're  made 
of  money." 

"  Hand  me  that  bottle  of  anise,"  said  Mrs.  Nye.  "  Baby 
has  the  colic." 

"Is  that  dangerous?"  asked  Willard. 

"  Very,"  replied  Mrs.  Nye.  "  You'd  better  go  now, 
we'll  manage  all  right,  and  Mrs.  Aldrich  is  getting  tired. 
What  a  red-faced  baby  this  is !  " 

"  Really,  nurse,  I'll  have  to  ask  you  not  to  speak  that 
way  again,"  spoke  up  Margaret.  "  Surely  there  never 
was  a  whiter,  handsomer  baby  than  little  Rachel." 

Willard  went  to  his  work  and  the  nurse  subsided. 

Going  down  street,  Willard  met  Frank  Noble. 

"  Congratulations,  old  fellow ;  fine  girl,  I  hear ;  glad 
for  you ;  you  don't  smoke,  so  I  won't  get  any  cigar  on 
that.  Well,  great  times,  these.  Abolitionists  or  not, 
girls  have  to  come.  Got  one  myself,  you  know,  and  a  boy 
into  the  bargain,"  and  Noble  jrave  a  little  sigh,  though 
what  there  was  to  sigh  about  Willard  could  not  discover. 
'  This  is  rather  a  remarkable  child,  the  doctor  says. 
What  does  a  pianoforte  cost,  Noble?  You  have  one,  I 
believe." 

"  Jehosaphat !  Aldrich ;  going  for  a.  pianoforte  so  soon  ? 


60  Love  and  Liberty. 

Wait  till  the  child  is  weaned;  what  in  creation  ails 
you  ?  " 

"  What  ails  me?"  returned  Aldrich,  a  little  stiffly,  for 
he  did  not  relish  his  friend's  ejaculation.  ''  I'm  not  aware 
that  anything  ails  me.  You  seem  to  have  lost  your  head." 

Noble  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "  Your  dignity  becomes 
you,  Willard.  I  declare,  what  a  difference  a  baby  makes 
sometimes.  A  pianoforte  will  cost,  say  six  hundred 
dollars.  Is  that  all  right?" 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Willard. 

Rachel  was  a  remarkable  baby,  so  the  parents  said. 
Mother  Rice  came  over  to  see  her,  gave  her  a  five-dollar 
gold  piece  to  put  into  the  bank,  for  the  name,  and  looked 
over  the  wee  bit  of  humanity. 

"Isn't  she  rather  small,  Margaret?  How  much  did 
you  say  she  weighed  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Rice. 

"  Small  ?  No,  indeed,  she  weighed  six  pounds  and 
three  quarters,  and  the  doctor  says  that's  very  good 
weight  for  the  fir^  child,"  answered  Margaret. 

"  I  believe  you  weighed  ten  pounds,  Margaret,  but 
your  father  is  quite  a  large  man,"  said  grandmother. 
"  Don't  you  think  she's  a  very  red  baby?  "  she  continued. 

"  Not  at  all,"  responded  Margaret ;  "  she's  a  lovely 
beauty,  my  darling  Rachel,  so  she  is,"  and  the  mother 
clasped  her  first-born  so  tightly  that  she  set  up  a  loud 
wail. 

"  There,  there,  hush,  my  darling ;  mother  loves  you, 
yes,  she  does ;  they  shan't  say  anything  against  you,  no 
they  shan't." 

Such  cunning  ways  as  that  baby  had  as  she  grew  older ! 
You  never  saw  anything  like  them.  It  is  true  her  teeth 
were  late  in  coming,  and  her  head  appeared  too  heavy 
for  her  neck.  She  was  a  year  and  a  half  old  before  she 
could  walk,  and  grandmother  said  she  was  "  dreadfully  " 
backward  about  talking,  and  when  she  did  talk,  it  was  a 
little  difficult  to  understand  her. 

Aunt  Ella  came  over  and  declared  up  and  down  that 
she  was  "  awfully  homely,  with  her  red  face,  black  hair 
and  humpy  nose,"  whereat  mama  Margaret  had  a  good 
cry,  and  sent  Aunt  Ella  home  "  till  she  got  to  know 
something." 


Rachel.  61 

However,  all  this  passed  away  in  due  time,  and  mama 
had  it  right,  for  if  the  darling  was  far  from  pretty  at 
first  (which  Margaret  would  never  admit),  when  she 
was  three  years  old  she  was  a  most  beautiful  child.  That 
dark  hair  fell  in  curling  ringlets  about  her  dainty  shoul 
ders,  her  brown  eyes  were  rich  and  full  of  expression,  and 
her  cheeks  soft  as  velvet,  with  the  loveliest  red  playing 
hide  and  seek  over  her  face ;  and  there  were  Margaret's 
dimples  over  again  in  boi.h  cheeks.  She  would  stand  on 
the  hassock,  and  speak  her  little  pieces  and  sing  her  little 
songs  in  a  bewitching  way,  and  march  round  with 
Chester  Nye,  her  senior  by  two  years,  in  the  most  digni 
fied  manner,  calling  down  applause  from  visitors  who 
were  often  found  in  Willard's  hospitable  home. 

You  should  have  seen  Margaret  with  the  fair  Miss 
Rachel  in  her  arms,  or  in  the  baby  carriage,  or  holding 
the  tiny  hand  of  her  little  daughter  as  she  walked  along 
the  street.  She  was  a  devoted  mother  as  she  was  also  i 
devoted  wife,  and  Willard  Aldrich  raised  a  prayer  of 
thanksgiving  in  his  heart  to  Him  who  had  given  him 
such  treasures. 

"  Pat,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  Willard,  meeting  Quinn  on 
the  street. 

"  Loively,  Boss,  and  how's  the  young  darlint?  Holy 
Vargin  and  don't  she  grow  though?  Sure,  Meester  Aid- 
rich,  it's  a  purty  picter  she  makes  wid  yer  lady  on  the 
street !  " 

"  Yes,  Pat,  it's  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  them.  I'm  a 
highly  favored  man ;  and  how  is  Tim  ?  " 

"  Tim's  all  right,  be  jabers.  He  kin  gin  his  old  man  a 
hug  now,  what  fairly  starts  the  sweat,  yer  honor,  and 
Bridget  says  he's  shure  to  make  a  priest,  the  Saints  pre- 
sarve  'im !  " 


62  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FRANK   NOBLE  AT   HOME. 

WE  have  spoken  of  Frank  Noble  as  a  man  of  sub 
stance.  He  was  one  of  the  principal  manufacturers  of 
Glentown,  and  lived  in  good  style.  When  he  married,  he 
made  an  unfortunate  choice.  He  found  it  out,  though 
late,  and  tried  to  make  the  best  of  it  like  a  sensible  man. 

Gertrude  Whitney  was  a  tall  brunette,  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  Providence  gentleman,  who  for  some  reason  did 
not  get  married  very  early.  She  was  educated  in  the  best 
of  schools,  and  her  parents  tried  to  make  a  suitable 
match  for  her,  aided,  of  course,  by  the  daughter  herself. 
Notwithstanding  the  old  gentleman's  wealth  and  posi 
tion,  and  the  remarkable  attractions  of  the  dashing  bru 
nette,  no  suitor  had  been  snared  till  Frank  Noble  met  the 
imperial  beauty  at  Providence  while  visiting  his  uncle. 
The  young  lady  was  already  twenty-six  years  old,  just 
Noble's  age.  It  was  whispered  that  she  had  been  en 
gaged  several  times,  but  all  the  engagements  were  broken, 
and  the  interested  young  men  all  appeared  grateful  for  the 
fact.  Frank  Noble,  however,  knew  nothing  of  all  this, 
and,  overcome  by  the  fascinations  and  accomplishments 
of  Miss  Whitney,  soon  became  her  husband. 

He  fitted  up  a  fine  residence  in  Glentown  where  he  was 
just  beginning  business,  and  placed  his  bride  in  charge. 
They  had  not  been  settled  a  month  before  Noble  dis 
covered  her  amiable  qualities.  Her  hot  temper,  jealous 
disposition,  shrewish  manner  and  strong  pro-slavery 
principles  greatly  astonished  him.  However,  she  could 
not  have  trapped  a  better  husband  so  far  as  patience  and 
forbearance  were  concerned,  and  Noble  was  too  well  bred 
to  mention  his  grievances  in  public.  Nevertheless,  people 
after  a  while  began  to  hint  that  things  were  not  always 
pleasant  at  Noble's  home,  and  often  his  evenings,  when 


Frank  Noble  at  Home.  63 

not  engaged  in  business  matters,  were  spent  at  the  house 
of  some  friend. 

There  was  a  son  and  also  a  daughter,  both  young,  at 
the  time  of  Rachel's  birth,  and  the  father  loved  his  chil 
dren. 

One  evening,  having  been  detained  in  Boston  on  busi 
ness,  he  reached  home  after  the  regular  supper  hour. 

"  Well,  Gertrude,  got  some  supper  for  me?"  inquired 
Noble,  pleasantly. 

"  It's  a  fine  hour  for  supper,  Mr.  Noble ;  why  didn't 
you  get  here  earlier?"  snapped  the  fair  wife. 

"  I  came  immediately  from  the  train,  my  dear." 

''  Why  didn't  you  come  on  an  earlier  train  ?  What  have 
you  been  doing  the  last  two  days  in  Boston  ?  Some  fair 
lady  down  there,  I'll  warrant.  I  know  the  tricks  of  you 
men." 

"  Why,  Gertrude,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  I  went 
to  Boston  on  important  business,  as  you  well  know,  and 
stayed  over  night  at  Natick  with  my  friend  Wilson,  who 
is  interested  with  me  in  politics.  I  tried  to  get  Willard 
Aldrich,  the  contractor,  to  go  with  me  to  meet  Wilson, 
but  he  was  too  busy  to  get  away." 

"  Mr.  Aldrich,  indeed !  I've  heard  of  your  spending 
your  evenings  over  there  with  his  low-lived  wite,  and 
leaving  me  alone." 

"  Really,  Gertrude,  you  shouldn't  talk  like  this  to  me ; 
Mr.  Aldrich  and  his  wife  are  most  excellent  people,  and 
if  their  social  position  is  not  so  high  as  ours  at  present, 
I  can  assure  you  it  will  be  in  due  time.  I  must  have  some 
thing  to  eat." 

He  entered  the  dining-room,  rang  the  bell  for  the  serv 
ant,  and  ordered  supper.  After  he  began  eating,  his  wife 
came  into  the  room. 

"  How  are  the  children,  Gertrude?" 

"  The  children  are  well  enough ;  Florence  has  kept  me 
waiting  upon  her  all  day,  plaguing  the  life  out  of  me,  and 
Clifford  ran  off  with  that  little  Nye  chit  yesterday  and 
gave  me  a  great  scare  before  Jane  found  him  by  the 
river  and  brought  him  home.  It  would  be  a  much  better 
plan,  Mr.  Noble,  if  you  would  attend  to  your  own  family] 
instead  of  running  off  to  Boston  so  often ;  "  and  the 


64  Love  and  Liberty. 

angry  woman  flashed  upon  him  with  her  black  eyes. 
"  Henry  Wilson  and  this  Aldrich  will  make  an  Abolition 
ist  out  of  you  as  sure  as  fate,  and  I  wouldn't  be  at  all 
surprised  to  see  you  join  that  contemptible  Liberty  party. 
I  hate  every  one  of  these  black-hearted  Abolitionists.  I 
believe  in  slavery  with  all  my  heart.  My  grandfather 
lived  in  the  South  and  owned  a  large  plantation  of  slaves, 
and  father  would  have  been  there  now  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Uncle  George  who  got  him  to  come  North  and  go 
into  the  machinery  business." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  returned  Noble,  "  we  don't  agree  on 
the  slavery  question.  I  have  never  been  an  Abolitionist, 
but  begin  to  think  they  may  be  right  in  some  things ;  " 
and  he  rose  from  the  table,  followed  by  his  wife  as  he 
went  to  the  parlor. 

It  was  a  richly  furnished  room,  with  every  mark  of 
luxury  and  elegance,  and  Noble  sighed  as  he  came  into 
the  brightly  furnished  apartment,  that  things  were  not 
more  congenial  in  his  fine  home. 

"  Gertrude,  dear,  let's  have  some  music." 

Mrs.  Noble  was  a  skilful  pianist,  and  greatly  delighted 
in  music. 

"  As  you  condescend  to  ask  me,  Frank,  I'll  play,  though 
I  should  think  my  playing  would  scarcely  please  a  goody 
Abolitionist  like  you." 

The  sweet  woman  seated  herself  at  the  pianoforte,  and 
struck  into  some  thrilling  compositions  from  the  great 
masters.  Her  fingers  danced  along  the  ivory  keys  like 
magic  and  stirred  and  soothed  the  spirit  of  Noble  with 
delightful  strains.  After  some  time  spent  in  the  exercise, 
the  rich  blood  mounting  to  her  cheek,  she  broke  into  one 
of  the  popular  melodies  of  the  day,  fairly  bewitching 
Frank  with  her  rich  voice  and  artistic  touch.  It  seemed 
like  his  courtship  days,  when  he  had  been  under  her  fas 
cinating  spell,  and  he  went  behind  her,  and  pressed  a  kiss 
on  fier  beautiful  cheek. 

''  Why,  Frank  Noble!  "  she  burst  out,  "  you  scared  me 
most  to  death  ;  why  can't  you  act  decently  ?  " 

The  spell  was  abruptly  broken.  She  was  no  longer  the 
courtly  maiden,  Gertrude  Whitney,  whom  he  had  wor 
shiped,  but  Mrs.  Noble,  the  petulant,  shrewish  wife,  who 


Frank  Noble  at  Home.  65 

cared  not  for  her  husband's  happiness,  or  the  happiness  of 
any  one  except  herself. 

"  Gertrude,  my  dear  wife,  can  we  not  be  more  pleas 
ant  and  happy  in  our  home,  than  we  have  been?  I  wish 
to  do  everything-  for  your  enjoyment ;  only  love  me  and 
be  as  kind  as  you  formerly  were  in  those  halcyon  days 
when  we  first  met." 

"Who  keeps  you  from  being  happy?"  exclaimed  his 
wife  petulantly. 

"  It  doesn't  appear  to  me,  Gertrude,  that  our  life  to 
gether  is  very  agreeable.  Am  I  to  blame?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  ;  who  else  is  to  blame,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Gertrude !  Gertrude !  God  help  us,  and  we  might  have 
an  ideal  home !  "  sighed  Noble,  as  he  passed  up-stairs. 

In  the  nursery  lay  his  children  fast  asleep ;  their  inno 
cent  faces  touched  his  heart ;  he  stooped  and  kissed  the 
black-haired  Florence,  the  mother's  face  over  again  in 
the  beautiful  child.  She  was  three  years  old,  and  Clif 
ford,  his  first-born,  was  six,  with  his  father's  face  and 
mother's  temper.  He  looked  upon  the  strong  features  of 
his  boy  and  marveled  what  his  future  would  be. 

"  God  bless  my  children !  God  bless  us  all,  and  help 
us,  yes,  help  us,  is  my  prayer,"  and  tears  dropped  from  the 
eyes  of  Frank  Noble  upon  the  faces  of  his  sleeping  chil 
dren. 


66  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SAMUEL. 

THE  child  at  the  Grover  homestead  grew  into  a  sturdy 
boy.  In  some  ways,  precocious,  he  early  showed  a  love 
for  books.  As  he  grew  older,  he  would  snatch  hour  after 
hour  from  duties,  and  pore  over  such  books  as  came  within 
his  reach,  story,  poetry,  history  and  biography.  He  had 
his  mother's  general  cast  of  features, with  the  exception 
of  his  eyes,  which  were  like  his  father's,  deep  blue  and  full 
of  expression.  At  ten  years  of  age,  he  was  bright  and 
winning,  but  with  his  mirthful  ways,  there  was  often  ob 
served  a  vein  of  sadness  which  seemed  unusual  in  one  so 
young.  It  was  fun  to  see  him  on  a  load  of  hay  with  his 
Cousin  Henrv,  pulling  and  laughing. 

"O  Henry,  here  we  go!"  and  with  a  dive  he  would 
sink  into  the  soft  hay  ;  then  in  friendly  strife  would  seek 
to  cover  his  cousin  in  the  load.  He  went  to  the  district 
school,  and  early  learned  all  that  the  teachers  could  teach 
him.  It  was  amusing  to  hear  him  talk  the  mixture  of 
Quaker  dialect  and  the  usual  mode  of  speech. 

"  Grandmother,  I'm  hungry,  when  wilt  thou  give  me 
something  to  eat  ?  " 

"  At  noon,  my  boy,  that's  the  hour  when  dinner  is 
ready." 

"Won't  you  give  me  something  now?  I'm  awful 
hungry." 

"  Thee  shouldn't  say  '  you  '  to  grandmother,  '  you  '  is 
plural,  '  thee  '  is  singular,  and  grandmother  is  onlv  one." 

"  'Tis  a  singular  grandmother  that  won't  give  a  hungry 
boy  something  to  eat." 

"  There,  there,  child,  get  thee  a  piece  of  pie !  " 

One  day  a  neighbor's  boy  came  to  the  farm,  and  played 


Samuel.  67 

with  the  cousins.  He  was  older  and  larger  than  Sam 
uel.  For  a  while,  all  went  well,  then  Samuel  took  offense. 
The  boy  had  tried  to  cheat  at  play. 

"  You're  a  fine  chap  to  cheat,"  cried  Samuel. 

"  I  haven't  cheated,"  cried  the  boy,  "  and  you're  a 
liar." 

In  an  instant,  up  flamed  that  hot  temper  which 
characterized  his  father,  and  his  Quaker  principles  were 
laid  aside.  With  one  bound,  he  sprang  to  the  boy's  side, 
and  with  his  little  fist,  struck  right  and  left,  knocked  the 
boy  down  and  pounded  him  till  he  cried  for  mercy. 

"  Call  me  a  liar,  I'll  teach  you,"  cried  Samuel,  his 
breath  nearly  gone.  Then  again  he  struck  until  from 
sheer  exhaustion  he  had  to  cease.  The  boy  lay  motion 
less  ;  no  cry  escaped  him.  Soon  the  paroxysm  of  anger 
was  over  and  Samuel  noticed  he  did  not  move.  He  went 
to  him  and  raised  him  up ;  the  boy  opened  his  eyes,  blood 
flowing  from  lips  and  nose. 

"  Get  some  water,  Henry,  quick  !  "  Water  was  brought, 
the  boy  revived  and  did  not  prove  to  be  seriously  in 
jured,  though  he  carried  the  marks  of  that  attack  for 
many  days.  He  never  called  Samuel  a  liar  again  and 
always  held  him  at  a  respectful  distance. 

That  night,  grandmother  and  Samuel  had  a  talk  alone. 

"  What  made  thee  do  it,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  Something  inside  made  me ;  I  don't  know  what  it 
was." 

''  That,"  said  grandmother,  "  was  the  evil  spirit ;  my 
boy  must  overcome  this  dreadful  temper  or  he  may  kill 
some  one  and  be  a  murderer." 

Samuel  shuddered.  Then  in  soft  tones  she  told  him, 
as  she  had  often  done,  of  his  beautiful  mother,  who  gave 
her  life  for  him,  and  that  he  must  ever  seek  to  master 
himself  if  he  would  grow  up  a  good  man.  He  listened 
and  resolved  to  conquer  himself,  but  like  many  resolves, 
it  was  easier  made  than  kept.  Nurtured  in  the  atmos 
phere  of  this  Quaker  home,  he  was  taught  many  things 
which  inspired  him.  Foremost  of  all  was  a  love  for  the 
Abolition  cause.  Friend  Grover  had  become  an  enthusi 
astic  believer  in  Garrison  and  his  coadjutors.  Anti- 
slavery  literature  was  plentiful  in  the  home,  and  Samuel 


68  Love  and  Liberty. 

early  became  acquainted  with  the  great  facts  and  prin 
ciples  of  the  struggle  for  the  black  man's  freedom. 

The  years  passed  rapidly  away,  and  Samuel  developed 
those  qualities  of  mind  and  body  which  gave  him  strength 
and  prominence  in  later  years. 


The  House  in  the  Woodland.  69 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOODLAND. 

MANY  miles  from  Groveland,  five  years  after  the  death 
of  Ruth  Fuller,  a  man  could  be  seen  one  day  climbing  the 
hillside  of  a  large  forest.  His  hair  was  long  and  fell  in 
curling  locks  upon  his  shoulders.  He  stooped  and  walked 
listlessly.  One  could  see  in  getting  a  view  of  his  face, 
that  it  had  an  expression  of  sorrow,  and  was  bronzed  with 
the  sun.  He  was  dressed  in  farmer's  garb,  and  in  his 
hands  carried  the  implements  of  toil.  The  particular 
thing  about  the  man  which  attracted  one  was  the  clear, 
deep  blue  eyes.  That  honest,  sad  expression  held  the  gaze 
and  attention  of  all  who  saw  him.  He  appeared  to  be 
about  thirty  years  of  age,  though  possibly  a  little  younger. 
On  he  went,  climbing  up  the  steep  path  of  the  hillside,  out 
of  sight  into  the  woodland.  Soon  he  came  to  an  old  one- 
story  house  in  the  forest ;  the  window  was  open,  for  it  was 
summer.  There  was  a  garden  in  the  cleared  space  in  the 
rear  and  some  vines  climbed  about  the  house.  A  beauti 
ful  rose-bush  in  full  bloom,  supported  by  a  trellis,  was 
near  by.  The  man  opened  the  door  and  entered.  Only 
the  barest  furnishings  could  be  seen.  An  old  stove,  a 
table,  a  few  chairs,  and  a  bed,  with  some  dishes,  mostly 
tin.  On  the  table  were  some  books.  A  Bible  much  worn, 
Life  of  George  Fox,  an  English  reader,  several  books 
on  the  Abolition  movement,  some  histories  and  biog 
raphies,  and  a  book  of  poems.  A  copy  of  the  Liberator 
lay  on  the  table,  and  on  the  shelf  above  was  a  large  pile 
of  other  copies  of  the  paper.  There  was  also  a  pile  of 
manuscript.  At  the  back  of  the  room  was  a  door  which 
opened  into  another  room,  very  plain  but  somewhat  better 
furnished  than  the  first.  The  man  prepared  his  supper, 
and  after  a  few  household  duties,  seated  himself  at  the 
table,  read  and  wrote.  His  name  was  James  Fuller.  More 
than  five  years  ago,  after  some  wandering,  heart-broken 


70  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  despairing,  he  found  this  place.  The  house,  years 
before  built  as  a  temporary  winter  house  for  some  wood- 
choppers,  was  somewhat  improved,  and  rented  for  a  small 
sum.  It  was  just  suited  to  his  mood.  He  sparingly  fur 
nished  it,  made  a  garden,  brought  a  piece  of  the  old  rose 
bush  from  the  Grover  homestead,  and  engaged  himself  to 
work  for  a  farmer  near  by.  These  years  had  been  full  of 
strange  experiences.  He  reviewed  his  whole  life.  An 
unwelcome  babe ;  a  hard  worked,  abused  boy,  poor  and 
despised ;  years  of  toil  after  reaching  man's  estate ;  nine 
months  of  happiness  after  meeting  Ruth  till  he  took  her 
as  his  bride,  and  one  short,  blessed  year  of  wedded  bliss 
with  her  whom  his  soul  loved.  Then  a  dead  wife  and 
child  and  his  boy  Samuel.  It  was  hard  ;  his  soul  was 
wrung  with  anguish.  He  had  never  purposely  injured 
a  single  person  :  he  desired  to  be  good,  he  had  worked, 
believed  and  loved ;  now  all  desire  of  life  was  gone :  all 
happiness  departed.  He  grieved  and  communed  with  his 
spirit.  "Was  there  a  God,  and  a  God  of  love?  Surely 
there  was  naught  but  some  blind  fate  to  drag  men  down 
to  doom.  His  spirit,  tossed  by  conflict,  wrestled  in  agony 
over  his  fate.  At  times,  his  wrath  mounted  up  against 
the  God  who  denied  his  prayer,  and  allowed  his  wife  to 
die.  Again  crushed  in  helpless  grief,  he  cried  for  help 
and  mercy. 

"  There  is  no  God,"  shrieked  the  demons  in  his  soul, 
"  There  must  be  a  God,"  contended  his  saner  spirit, 
"  for  /  am.     I  did  not  come  by  chance,  but  am  the  result 
of  inexorable  law." 

"Why  this  life  of  suffering  and  pain?" 
"  What  means  the  cruelty  of  earthly  disappointment  ?  " 
And  so  with  stern  and  terrible  sense  of  loss,  with  heart 
despairing  of  all  rest,  with  blind  desire  to  see  and  know 
the  truth,  he  struggled  in  his  helplessness.  That  last  day 
of  Ruth's  life  rose  up  before  him.  Her  joy  at  his  simple 
gift.  The  travail  pain,  the  birth  of  his  boys,  that  last, 
sad,  fond  farewell:  "  Thou  hast  been  a  good  husband,  be 
brave  and  strong;  teach  little  Samuel  to  remember  his 
mother ;  I  am  going  to  my  heavenly  home  ;  farewell, 
my  love,  farewell !  " 

He  lived  it  all  over  again ;  the  fond  caress  and  kisses 


The  House  in  the  Woodland.  71 

on  the  lips ;  the  white  face  and  blessed  smile ;  his  an 
guish,  prayers  and  useless  raving ;  and  then  the  shroud, 
the  casket  and  the  grave.  He  shuddered  at  the  memory. 

"  O  cursed  fate!  "  he  cried,  "  I  am  wronged  and  hurt 
and  without  remedy." 

James  was  essentially  a  religious  man,  and  believed 
with  the  Quakers  in  the  "  inner  light,"  but  his  light  had 
turned  into  darkness.  Gloom,  sorrow  and  despair  were 
striving  for  the  mastery.  He  groaned  in  anguish  of 
spirit,  and  wrestled  in  Laocoon-like  despair,  with  his 
doubts  and  fears. 

"  What  have  I  ever  done,  to  have  such  trial  ?  "  he  ex 
claimed.  "  Ruth  was  good,  noble  and  brave.  We  loved 
each  other.  Our  hearts  were  one.  We  were  happy.  Why 
should  those  who  seek  to  do  well  be  afflicted  and  tor 
mented  ?  I  was  born  under  an  unlucky  star ;  haven't  I 
read  Egyptian  astrology?  The  world  is  out  of  joint.  I 
suffer  unjustly." 

The  burden  of  his  spirit  grew  heavier.  "  I  do  not 
deserve  such  a  fate, '  he  cried  out  in  his  agony. 

The  consciousness  of  his  heavily  laden  soul  was  no  fig 
ment  of  a  disordered  or  fanciful  imagination,  but  a  stern 
and  dreadful  reality.  His  spiritual  nature  was  passing 
through  a  terrible  crisis.  He  was  like'a  mariner  far  out 
at  sea,  among  the  breakers  tossed  by  the  tempest  like  a 
plaything  upon  the  angry  billows,  and  stranded  on  the 
rocks  of  restlessness  and  grief. 

"  Help !  help !  O  God,  if  there  be  a  God,"  he  cried. 
For  a  long  time  he  struggled  in  vain,  and  no  help  or 
peace  came.  "  I  must  have  help,  or  die,  I  am  lost  in  the 
maze  of  spiritual  conflict.  God  in  heaven  help  a  strug 
gling  man  to  find  the  light !  " 

Hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  he  wrestled,  he  walked 
the  room,  called  out  in  the  horror  of  his  soul,  wrung  his 
hands  in  desperation,  and  more  than  ever  read  the  pages 
of  that  Book,  which,  say  what  we  will  about  it,  has 
calmed  more  troubled  souls  and  comforted  more  sorrow 
ing  hearts  than  all  the  world's  philosophies.  James  never 
worshiped  the  Bible  with  idolatrous  affection,  but  be 
lieved  it  to  be  the  most  marvelous  Book  which  the  world 
has  ever  produced.  He  found  that  the  good  suffered  as 


72  Love  and  Liberty. 

well  as  the  guilty,  "  but  why?  "  Yes,  why?  James  was 
not  alone  in  his  questioning;  yet  as  he  read  of  Jesus 
before  His  enemies,  in  Gethsemane  agony,  teaching  His 
followers  sweet  lessons  of  patience,  meekness  and  sub 
mission,  he  grew  calmer.  He  read  over  and  over  again 
the  Gospels,  and  studied  the  beauty,  strength  and  gran 
deur  of  Christ's  life  and  character. 

"  I  have  no  such  spirit,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  it  is  only  too 
true  that  I  have  often  gone  wrong  and  failed  at  many 
points." 

One  day,  helpless  and  weak,  utterly  exhausted  with 
conflict,  he  sank  into  a  chair  and  closed  his  eyes.  He 
thought  of  that  radiant  vision,  when,  amidst  the  shining 
throng,  he  saw  Ruth  clothed  with  celestial  brightness, 
and  heard  her  message,  "  Fear  not,  James,  I  will  be  with 
thee  still !  "  It  calmed  his  tortured,  broken  spirit,  and 
he  bowed  his  head  and  wept ;  wept  great  tears  of  sorrow, 
then  grew  calmer,  took  the  little  book  of  poems,  and 
kissed  the  faded  roses.  "  For  thy  sake,  O  Ruth,  I  will 
seek  e'en  yet  the  mastery  of  my  sorrow  and  myself!" 

As  he  made  this  resolution,  he  had  a  vision  of  the  suf 
fering  Christ,  hands  and  feet  wet  with  blood,  while 
the  face  was  transfigured  with  heavenly  glory  and 
beamed  upon  him  with  a  look  of  ineffable  love,  and  a 
voice  said,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  ahvay  even  unto  the  end 
of  the  world."  So  once  again  he  took  heart  and  stayed 
his  soul  on  God. 

The  weeks,  months  and  even  years  rolled  by.  Gradually, 
after  his  spiritual  victory,  he  yielded  to  the  great  grief 
consoler,  Time.  Wearily  and  heavily  at  first  he  went  about 
his  duties ;  then  as  time  went  by,  he  grew  accustomed 
to  his  new  manner  of  life  while  he  pursued  his  daily  tasks. 
Once  each  year,  he  traveled  the  long  distance  to  see  his 
boy,  carried  him  a  present  and  clasped  him  to  his  heart, 
with  many  tears.  He  paid  for  his  care,  stayed  a  few  days, 
and  then  returned  to  his  isolated  dwelling.  Of  late,  he  had 
been  writing  something  of  his  history,  and  also  some 
essays  on  the  Abolition  movement.  It  gave  him  some 
relief  to  thus  employ  himself,  and  while  the  manuscript 
on  the  table  grew  in  volume,  his  own  heart  grew  in  cour 
age,  while  ever  and  anon  he  kissed  the  faded  roses  in  the 
little  book. 


The  Fugitives.  73 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    FUGITIVES. 

ONE  night  there  came  a  particular  rap  at  James  Fuller's 
door.  He  knew  the  sign  at  once.  Opening  the  door,  he 
found  a  colored  man,  a  woman  and  two  children.  The 
man  placed  a  letter  in  his  hand  which  he  instantly  under 
stood. 

''  Come  in  and  welcome,"  said  James. 

"  Yas,  Massa,  my  wife  and  chil'en." 

"  Station  No.  25  on  the  New  England  Branch  Road," 
said  James.  "What's  your  name?" 

"  George  Sweet." 

"  Where  from  ?  " 

"  Virginy." 

"  How  did  you  come  ?  " 

"  On  de  ribber,  de  ocean,  an'  ober  de  lots  a  long  ways." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  Up  to  Massa  Smith's  plantation  in  York  State." 

"  I  know  about  that,"  said  James.  "  Gerrit  Smith  has 
given  thousands  of  acres  up  in  the  Adirondack  mountains 
for  colored  people  to  settle.  I  have  a  brother  not  far 
away  from  the  place  :  I  think  you'll  do  well.  Sit  up  to  the 
table,  now;  supper  is  ready.  Are  you  cold,  Mrs.  Sweet?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  feel  better  now,  but  very  tired." 

After  supper,  James  questioned  them  about  their 
escape. 

"  Massa,  we  went  off  in  de  night,  and  followed  de 
Norf  star.  One  of  dem  conductors  of  de  road  got  us 
started  right,  with  money  and  de  letter.  Towards 
mornin'  we  lay  down  to  sleep ;  we  hadn't  slept  long  when 
we  heard  de  bay  o'  de  bloodhoun's  on  our  track." 

"  Did  they  send  bloodhounds  after  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Massa  Fuller.  We  didn't  know  what  to  do,  but 
followin'  de  road  a  leetle  furder,  we  saw  a  ribber  and 


74  Love  and  Liberty. 

boat.  We  hurried  and  got  into  de  boat,  tuk  de  oars  and 
paddled  down  stream  and  hid  in  de  bushes  by  de  oder  side 
of  de  bank.  When  dc  bloodhoun's  tracked  us  to  de  ribber, 
dey  didn't  know  what  way  ter  go.  We  could  hear  clem 
howl  and  bime-by  hear  de  talk  of  Massa's  men  artcr  us. 
We  lay  still,  but  one  o'  dem  sed :  '  Dey'se  gone  'cross  de 
ribber,  go  arter  'em,  Sally.'  De  dogs  plunged  in  de 
ribber,  but  had  no  trail,  den  went  back  and  bayed  and 
howled  lon^  time.  '  Queer  where  dey  is/  sed  one.  Den 
we  heerd  dem  cuss  and  swear  jiss  awful.  Arter  a  leetle 
while,  dey  went  off  to  see  'bout  somet'ing,  and  we  slid 
de  boat  out  de  bushes  still  like,  an'  push  down  de  stream." 

"Mrs.   Sweet,"  said  James,   "were  you  a  slave?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  answered. 

She  was  a  beautiful  quadroon,  so  nearly  white  that  in  a 
company  of  white  people  few  would  suspect  that  she 
was  colored.  Her  hair  was  straight  and  silky,  her  eyes 
of  dark  blue,  while  her  cheeks  were  pink  and  white  as 
she  felt  the  eyes  of  James  search  her  face.  She  spoke 
as  well  as  any  ordinarily  educated  American. 

"  I  have  always  been  a  slave,  but  my  lot  before  mar 
riage  in  some  respects  was  better  than  the  average.  I 
was  a  favorite  slave  of  my  mistress,  and  grew  up  in  the 
same  home  with  her.  My  master  never  treated  me  then 
unkindly,  but  even  at  that  time  I  greatly  longed  for  free 
dom,  for,  however  easy  the  life  of  slaves  may  be,  most  of 
them,  I  believe,  have  an  intense  desire  for  liberty.  My 
mistress,  the  daughter  of  Master,  was  only  a  few  years 
older  than  myself,  and  we  were  often  more  like  sisters 
than  like  mistress  and  slave.  Master's  wife  had  died  some 
years  before,  and  he  married  again.  This  new  wife  ap 
peared-  to  dislike  both  me  and  Mistress  Emily,  and  after 
she  came,  many  things  grew  hard  for  us.  George  lived 
on  a  plantation  near  us ;  we  had  met  several  times  and 
agreed  to  be  married.  When  Master  knew  about  it,  he 
was  very  angry  and  cursed  me  bitterly ;  said  an  uned 
ucated  mulatto  was  no  suitable  match  for  me,  and  after  a 
little,  made  me  tlv'nk  T  should  be  sold  if  the  marriacre  was 
not  broken  off.  Master  Fuller,  you  may  have  loved  some 
time,  and  we  slaves  love  also.  George  is  a  good  man  and 
loves  me  dearly  and  I  love  him." 


The  Fugitives.  75 

James'  heart,  at  Mrs.  Sweet's  mention  of  love,  grew 
cold  as  ice.  Had  he  not  loved?  God  knew  how  well. 

''  Marie  is  better  nor  me,  Massa,  but  I  allers  loved  her 
sence  I  fust  see  her,"  spoke  up  George. 

"  The  children  will  wish  to  be  put  to  bed,"  said  James, 
and  he  opened  the  door  to  the  other  room.  Mrs.  Sweet 
entered  with  a  boy  of  six  years  and  a  girl  of  four,  and 
arranged  a  couch  for  her  children.  The  boy  was  about 
the  color  of  George,  but  little  Etta  was  as  white  as  her 
mama.  They  were  poorly  clad  and  had  already  fallen 
asleep  by  the  warm  fire,  after  a  good  supper.  While  the 
mother  put  her  children  to  rest  for  the  night,  George  took 
up  the  story  of  their  escape. 

"  Did  those  men  return  for  you  ?  "  asked  James. 

"  We  think  so,"  answered  George,  "  but  de  boat  wen' 
fast  down  de  ribber  wid  de  current  and  oars,  and  we 
nebber  seed  em  agin.  De  stream  we  foun'  run  inter  de 
James  ribber.  Arter  we  got  'way  off  from  de  houn's 
and  men,  we  darsn't  go  no  furder  in  daytime,  an'  hauled 
de  boat  up  in  some  busnes  by  de  bank.  We  slep'  by  day 
and  kep'  de  boat  goin'  by  night  till  we  come  to  Richmon', 
We  knew  a  conduct 'r  dere  and  station  dat  we  cou'd  fin', 
and  arter  a  while  got  ter  his  house." 

"  How  did  you  live?"  asked  James. 

"  When  we  run  way,  we  ttik  some  corn  cakes  'and 
fruit  wid  us ;  and  when  we  eat  'em  all  up,  I  starts  out 
in  de  night  and  picked  up  sich  t'ings  as  I  cud  fine,  and  we 
got  'long  berry  well.  At  Richmon'  de  station  massa  tuk 
in  in,  fed  us  and  we  rest'd  tew  da's.  Den  he  box  me  up 
and  sent  me  to  New  York  by  'spress !  " 

"By  express?"  said  James. 

"  Yes,  Massa,  an'  I  got  dere  all  right." 

"  Dey  dressed  Marie  up  as  a  fine  white  lady,  an'  leetle 
Etta  as  her  darter,  and  George  Washington,  my  boy,  was 
her  leetle  slave  in  ole  clo's,  to  wait  on  'em,  gwine  to  de 
great  city.  Dey  put  her  on  board  de  ship  gwine  to  New 
York.  Yer  see  Marie  look  like  white  ledtly  and  talks 
good  English." 

Just  then  Marie  came  from  the  other  room. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Sweet,  your  husband  has  been  telling  me 


76  Love  and  Liberty. 

further  about  your  escape,  but  I  would  like  to  know  more 
of  your  history." 

"It  cannot  be  of  much  interest  to  you,  Master  Fuller, 
but  I  am  willing'  to  continue  if  you  wish. 

"  When  I  found  that  George  loved  me  so  dearly,  we 
determined  to  be  married  at  all  hazards.  So,  one  day, 
when  no  one  suspected,  we  got  married.  George's  master 
found  it  out,  and  offered  to  buy  me,  but  master  was  so 
offended  that  he  sold  me  to  a  slave-buyer,  purchasing 
slaves  for  New  Orleans.  I  was  dreadfully  frightened, 
and  Mistress  Emily  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break  ; 
but  master  was  put  up  to  it  by  his  new  wife  and  would 
listen  to  no  entreaties  in  my  behalf.  I  was  told  to  be 
ready  to  go  in  the  morning  with  my  new  master.  I  was 
afraid  of  him,  he  cast  such  evil  eyes  on  me.  Mistress 
Emily  had  taught  me  to  read  and  write,  and  many  other 
things,  and  I  thought  if  I  could  get  away  north  with  my 
husband,  we  might  be  free  and  happy." 

'  Did  your  husband  know  that  you  had  been  sold?" 
asked  James. 

"  Yes,  I  got  word  to  him  that  evening ;  he  met  me  in 
a  secret  place  and  said  he  would  tell  his  master,  and  per 
haps  something  could  be  done  to  save  me.  George's  master 
for  some  reason  not  known  to  us  then,  appeared  willing 
to  aid  me.  He  allowed  me  to  come  that  night  and  stay 
in  one  of  his  cabins  with  George,  and  kept  the  matter 
secret." 

"  Isn't  that  very  unusual?  "  inquired  James.  "  I  didn't 
suppose  that  one  slave-owner  would  assist  the  slaves  of 
another." 

"  They  do  not,  as  a  rule,"  answered  Mrs.  Sweet,  "  but 
this  was  not  assisting  me  to  run  away,  but  only  to  keep 
me  from  being  carried  South;  and  then,  as  it  came  out, 
he  had  reasons  for  his  interest.  When  my  new  owner 
came  for  me,  I  was  not  to  be  found.  Xo  one  knew  where 
I  was,  not  even  Mistress  Emily.  We  learned  afterward 
that  there  was  a  terrible  time.  The  slave  buyer  accused 
master  of  hiding  me.  Master  swore  at  him  and  offered 
him  the  bloodhounds  to  track  me,  denying  all  knowledge 
concerning  me.  But  it  had  been  so  arranged  that  the 
hounds  onlv  traced  me  a  short  distance  as  the  trail  had 


The  Fugitives.  77 

purposely  been  lost ;  I  went  in  George's  master's  wagon 
most  of  the  way,  and  a  rain  had  washed  away  the  tracks 
in  the  night.  Then  they  came  over  to  see  George  and  his 
master.  The  master  appeared  greatly  surprised  and  told 
them  to  ask  George  any  questions,  search  his  cabin  and 
the  premises  for  that  matter.  However,  I  was  safely  hid 
from  their  search.  George  professed  great  grief  that  I 
had  run  away.  They  searched  all  about,  but  without 
success.  About  noon,  they  gave  up  and  went  off.  It 
was  suspected,  however,  that  a  watch  would  be  appointed 
for  the  premises,  which,  indeed,  was  the  case,  so  that  I 
was  kept  secretly  hid  for  a  week.  Finally,  the  slave 
buyer  left.  As  master  failed  to  deliver  me  up,  he  had 
to  pay  back  the  money,  which  I  am  informed  was  one 
thousand  dollars.  About  a  month  afterward,  being  kept 
close  during  this  time,  Mistress  Emily  came  to  see  me.  It 
seems  that  I  was  really  her  property  by  pledge,  though  no 
papers  had  ever  been  passed  to  that  effect.  On  the  strength 
of  this,  out  of  her  love  for  me,  she  had,  for  a  sum  of 
money,  secured  the  interest  of  George's  master  until  such 
time  as  her  father's  anger  should  cool.  Now  she  went  to 
him  and  reminded  him  that  I  was  her  property  by  pledge, 
that  she  knew  where  I  was,  and  claimed  the  fulfilment 
of  his  promise  that  I  should  be  legally  made  over  to  her. 
Master  at  last  gave  in,  and  Mistress  Emily  had  me  come 
back  home.  That  was  nearly  seven  years  ago.  Life 
wasn't  very  pleasant  with  master's  wife,  but  I  got  along 
till  a  few  months  ago,  when  Mistress  Emily  died  suddenly. 
Then  George  and  I  waited  no  longer  but  started  for  free 
dom.  Our  two  children  have  been  a  source  of  trouble  be 
cause  \ve  belonged  to  different  masters.  George  had  to 
work  very  hard,  was  terribly  abused  by  the  plantation 
overseer  and  had  several  floggings.  O,  Master  Fuller, 
this  slavery  is  just  awful,  just  awful.  Why  will  God 
allow  it?  Why  will  the  nation  allow  this  cruel  wrong?  " 

James  looked  at  the  woman,  the  bright  spots  burning 
in  her  cheeks  as  she  told  her  simple  story.  His  heart  was 
full  of  pain  at  the  recital  of  her  wrongs. 

"  Cheer  up,  my  good  woman,  we  trust  you  will  soon 
be  free  and  have  a  happy  home." 

"  Yes,  but  the  thousands  and  millions  of  others  in  the 


78  Love  and  Liberty. 

same  case,  and  some  of  them  much  worse  off  than  our 
selves.  When  will  they  be  free?  Is  there  a  good  Lord? 
If  so,  why  does  He  not  hear  our  prayers?  " 

"  I  am  not  able,  my  friend,  to  explain  satisfactorily  all 
the  questions  of  your  heart.  I  often  have  the  same  feel 
ings,  but  I  trust  God  will,  in  His  own  good  time,  destroy 
this  great  system  of  iniquity." 

"  Now,  George,"  continued  James,  "  tell  me  the  rest 
of  your  adventures." 

"  When  Marie  got  to  New  York  and  landed,  she  seed 
bof  our  massas  on  de  dock,  but  you'd  neber  known  her, 
she  was  drest  up  so  fine  wid  leetle  Etta.  Leetle  George, 
she  feared,  would  spile  it  all,  but  dere  was  odder  black 
boys  an'  he  mixed  wid  'em ;  an'  when  she  went  asho', 
she  past  so  close  to  old  massa,  he  cud  tech  her.  I  was 
watchin'  out  o'  sight  an'  felt  awful  skeered,  but  neither 
on  'em  knowed  her,  an'  I  warn't  dar  to  be  seen.  Marie 
went  to  der  place  fur  me,  an'  we  had  a  happy  meetin'." 

"  Good,"  exclaimed  James. 

"  Rut  we  feered  de  massas,  and  darsn't  go  de  short 
way  to  Massa  Smith's  plantation,  so  de  station  massa 
got  us  'board  de  boat  for  Stonin'ton,  in  car'  of  his  frien', 
an'  we  walked  nights  eber  since  an'  rested  da's,  till  we 
got  ter  yer  static  n." 

"  Well  done,  George,  and  right  glad  I  am  to  have  you 
here.  Now  you  and  Marie  can  retire,  and  I  hope  you'll 
rest  well.  God  bless  you  both." 

Taking  a  light,  they  passed  into  the  room  where  the 
children  slept,  and  shut  the  door. 

James  Fuller's  woodland  home  was  a  station  on  the 
Underground  Railroad. 

The  next  day  the  fugitives  rested.  The  following 
night,  provided  with  money  and  instructions  they  left  the 
house  for  another  station,  and,  as  James  learned  after 
wards,  arrived  safely  in  the  Adirondack  settlement. 


After  the  Storm.  79 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AFTER  THE  STORM. 

FOR  ten  years,  James  Fuller  lived  that  hermit  life, 
broken  only  once  when  he  spent  the  winter  with  his 
brother  Jesse  in  the  State  of  New  York,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  great  mountains.  Ten  years  since  he  had  been  a 
station-master  of  the  Underground  Railroad,  and  helped 
slaves  to  freedom.  Ten  years  since  Ruth,  his  idolized 
bride  had  gone  to  heaven,  and  little  Samuel,  bereft  of  a 
mother's  love  and  care,  had  lived  at  the  Grover  home 
stead. 

One  April  day,  James  decided  to  abandon  this  mode  of 
life.  His  heart  was  yearning  for  companionship  again, 
and  John  Grover  wanted  him  to  take  the  homestead  farm 
for  two  years.  The  keen  edge  of  domestic  sorrow  had, 
in  some  degree,  departed,  and  the  comforts  of  home  life 
with  the  society  of  his  boy,  appeared  most  inviting.  These 
awaited  him  with  his  new  duties.  One  day,  he  arrived 
at  the  old  farmhouse,  and  after  nearly  a  year's  absence, 
clasped  his  boy  in  his  arms.  How  glad  Samuel  was  to 
see  him. 

"  Hurrah,  father,  I'm  glad  you've  come  home!  Good! 
Good!"  and  the  delighted  boy  jumped  for  joy.  And 
James  was  also  glad.  How  familiar  everything  was  and 
yet  how  strange  it  all  seemed !  There  was  his  boy  ten 
years  old,  lithe  and  strong.  James  was  nearly  forty. 
"  Is  it  possible?  "  he  thought.  He  entered  at  once  upon 
the  farm  duties,  and  a  close  affection  was  soon  formed 
between  father  and  son.  In  that  merry,  romping  lad  he 
saw  something  of  his  lost  Ruth,  and  he  loved  to  look  into 
the  bright  face  and  those  beautiful  eyes  of  his  boy.  He 
told  Samuel  something  of  his  woodland  home,  particularly 
about  the  slaves  whom  he  had  helped  to  Canada  and 
other  places. 


8o  Love  and  Liberty. 

"Dost  thou  call  it  the  Underground  Railroad?" 
''  Yes,  it  is  a  secret  line  of  stations  to  help  poor  slaves 
to  freedom." 

"  How  long  have  they  had  these  roads?  " 
"  For  several  years.     Many  of  the  lines  are  working 
very  busily  just  now." 

"  Isaac  T.  Hopper,  a  prominent  Friend  of  Philadelphia 
and  afterward  of  New  York,  and  others,  used  to  employ 
a  good  many  of  our  methods  to  assist  slaves,  but  the  prac 
tise  was  not  then  called  by  this  name." 

"  Who  knows  about  these  stations,  father?  " 
"  Oh,  the  managers  and  stockholders  and  conductors. 
The  men  who  get  the  slaves  away  from  their  masters  and 
guide  them  to  safety.      Money   is    often    furnished  by 
those  who  never  know  whom  it  benefits." 
"  Why  is  that?  " 

"If  it  became  known  that  slaves  are  assisted  to  escape, 
those  aiding  them  are  liable  to  heavy  fines  and  terms  of 
imprisonment ;  it's  against  the  law  to  help  them." 

"  Why,  father,  I  should  think  the  law  would  be  differ 
ent.  Isn't  it  wrong  to  have  slaves?" 

"  It  is  wrong,  my  son,  in  God's  sight,  but  the  law  of 
the  country  sustains  slavery  and  punishes  those  who  help 
slaves  to  freedom,  if  such  persons  are  discovered.  There 
is  a  colored  man  named  Peter  Still  in  Philadelphia,  chair 
man  of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  who  has  charge  of  many 
matters  connected  with  the  road.  He  says  the  slaves 
come  from  cities  and  plantations,  rice-swamps,  cotton- 
fields,  houses  and  shops,  under  all  sorts  of  disguises  and 
in  every  manner,  on  sea  and  land.  I  had  one  man  come 
to  my  station  who  had  been  boxed  up  and  sent  by  express 
from  Richmond  to  New  York." 

''  I  should  think  he  would  die  in  a  box,  father." 
"  They  bored  holes  for  the  air  to  get  in,  and  he  had 
some  food  in  the  box  with  him." 

"  Do  any  ever  suffer  for  helping  the  slaves?  " 
"  Yes,  a  man  namea  Seth  Concklin  lost  his  life  in  at 
tempting  to  rescue  a  woman  and  her  children.  A  colored 
conductor,  Samuel  D.  Burrows,  had  to  go  to  prison  and 
lost  his  freedom,  being  sold  on  the  auction  block.  And  a 
man  named  Smith  spent  many  years  in  prison  because  he 


"After  the  Storm.  Si 

had  helped  a  man  to  freedom.  There  have  been  as  many 
as  sixty  passengers  reach  Philadelphia  in  a  single  month ; 
twenty-eight  came  at  one  time.  Two  passengers  came  by 
the  way  of  Liverpool,  England.  All  kinds  of  suffering, 
my  boy,  are  endured  in  order  to  reach  the  land  of  liberty. 
Thank  God,  Samuel  that  thou  are  white  and  not  black." 

These  things  made  a  great  impression  on  the  boy's 
mind,  and  thus  early  was  he  intensely  interested  in  the 
cause  of  liberty. 

One  day,  James  said,  "  Samuel,  how  would  thee  like 
a  trip  to  Wilksville,  where  father  was  born  ?  " 

"  O,  father,  may  I  go?  " 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  we  will  go  together." 

So  old  Doll  was  harnessed  into  the  open  buggy,  and 
father  and  son,  arrayed  in  their  best  clothes,  started  for 
Wilksville,  ten  miles  away.  A  merry  time  they  had. 

'  There  is  the  old  saw-mill,  where  father  used  to  saw 
the  logs." 

"  O  father,  let's  get  out  and  see  them  work."  They 
alighted,  and  Samuel's  pleasure  and  interest  were  greatly 
awakened. 

"  Up  the  stream,  my  boy,  the  trout  leap  in  the  foam 
pretty  lively." 

The  mention  of  trout  was  enough  for  Samuel,  who 
begged  his  father  for  a  fishing  trip. 

l(  Before  we  go  home,  we'll  try  them,"  said  James. 

They  passed  the  old  blacksmith  shop,  and  came  to  the 
country  store.  How  natural  and  yet  how  strange  it 
seemed  to  be  there !  It  was  ten  years  since  James  had 
visited  the  place.  Old  Cap'n  Spencer  had  gone  ;  his  sons 
and  daughters  had  homes  in  other  places.  Sam  Smith 
was  old,  white-haired  and  feeble,  on  the  verge  of  the 
grave.  His  son,  Tom,  old  friend  of  James,  was  back  in 
his  native  town,  on  his  father's  farm. 

"  Jim,  old  boy,  how  are  you?  Walk  right  in,  wife  will 
be  glad  to  see  you.  And  this  is  Samuel !  Well,  well, 
this  is  like  old  times,  sure  enough !  " 

At  this  moment,  a  buxom  looking  woman  nearing 
middle  life  came  into  the  room,  followed  by  three  healthy 
looking  children. 

"  Sue  Slocum,  I  declare  I'm  surprised ;  and  is  this  you? 

6 


82  Love  and  Liberty. 

Well,  Tom,  you  landed  well  after  all.  Why  didn't  you 
write  to  me  all  about  it  ?  " 

"  Write  to  you  ?  That's  a  bright  one.  Who  knew  where 
you  were?  Hid  in  the  woods  a  hundred  miles  away, 
nobody  knew  where.  Write  to  you?  Well,  I'm  blessed, 
if  you  don't  beat  the  Dutch,  Jim  Fuller;  you're  a  ticket." 

"  Sue,  you're  looking  well ;  and  these  are  the  children. 
What  are  their  names?"  said  James. 

"  That  oldest  boy  is  your  namesake,  old  man,  and  you 
didn't  know  it." 

"  Jim,  come  here  and  shake  hands  with  your  uncle." 

"  Sue  said  he'd  got  to  be  named  James.  I  was  a  bit 
jealous  at  first,  but  blast  it  all,  Sue's  a  good  one  and  no 
mistake." 

She  spoke,  with  a  red  spot  on  each  cheek : 

"  James,  it  does  us  good  to  see  you.  You  haven't  held 
your  own  with  us.  You  never  should  have  gone  away 
as  you  did ;  you've  grown  round-shouldered,  and  lost 
your  smiling  face.  Here,  little  Sue,  this  is  Uncle  James, 
and  that  little  chap  is  Tom  Smith.  Come  here,  my  lad," 
and  the  two-year-old  boy  was  held  up  by  his  mother  for 
James  to  kiss. 

"  We're  right  glad  to  have  you  with  us  anyhow, 
aren't  we,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Glad  ain't  no  name  for  it,"  answered  Tom. 

"How's  your  father,   Sue?" 

"  Hale  and  hearty  as  ever,"  answered  Airs.  Smith. 

"And  Joe?" 

'  Tip  top,  lovely  and  serene,"  bellowed  Tom. 

"  You  know  whom  he  married,  Jim  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know?  I've  been  out  of  the  world  ten 
years,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  remember  Bess  Lawton,  two  mfles  below  our 
house  on  the  turnpike?  "  said  Sue.  "  She's  the  lucky  girl, 
and  a  fine  wife  she  makes  him.  They  have  two  children 
and  live  with  father  and  mother  up-stairs." 

"  I  remember  Bess,"  replied  James,  ''  tall  and  stately 
as  a  pine  tree ;  smart  as  a  whip,  too." 

"  That  slie  is,"  echoed  Sue.  "  Father's  a  rank  Aboli 
tionist  now,"  continued  she.  "  That  Liberator  is  next  to 
the  Bible  with  him." 


After  the  Storm.  83 

"  Jim,  do  you  remember  that  Boston  trip  we  took  ? 
My  stars,  wasn't  that  fine?  "  sung  out  Tom. 

"  Remember  it  ?  "  answered  James ;  "  hasn't  it  been 
the  inspiration  of  my  life  ever  since?  Wendell  Phillips, 
God  bless  him,  did  the  work  for  me." 

"  Yes,  that  was  rich.  Say,  Jim,  they've  finished  Bunker 
Hill  monument,  and  Daniel  Webster  delivered  a  big  ora 
tion  at  the  dedication." 

"  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  Daniel,"  answered  James. 
<:  He's  gone  over  boots,  saddle  and  all,  into  the  camp  of 
the  slaveholders,  folks  say  because  he  wants  to  be  presi 
dent  ;  I  guess  it's  so." 

Thus  they  talked  over  old  times.  Sue  had  to  leave 
them  to  get  dinner,  and  when  the  dinner  hour  arrived, 
James  and  Samuel  had  a  ravenous  appetite. 

After  dinner,  they  went  into  the  old  store.  It  was  now 
in  the  hands  of  strangers,  but  there  was  the  same  counter 
and  scales,  where  James  had  waited  upon  customers 
twenty  years  ago. 

"  By  the  way,  Jim,"  said  Tom,  "  did  you  ever  hear 
about  that  murder  here  a  few  months  ago  ?  " 

"  No,"   replied  James. 

''  You  see  Paul  Rogers  who  had  kept  the  store  since 
the  Cap'n  gave  up  was  sitting  one  even'g  right  by  the 
window  on  a  settee.  Somebody  came  up  to  the  window, 
put  a  pistol  to  the  glass  and  fired  a  bullet  through  the 
glass,  into  his  head.  He  gave  a  jump  and  said,  '  My  God, 
I'm  a  dead  man/  and  fell  on  the  floor,  dead.  It  made  the 
greatest  excitement  all  through  this  section.  The  man 
got  away,  and  has  never  been  captured ;  no  one  knows 
who  'tis,  and  it's  nigh  on  to  a  year  since  it  happened." 

"  Why,  Tom  Smith,  who  could  have  done  such  a  thing, 
and  for  what  reason?  " 

'  There  are  two  theories  about  it.  Rogers,  you  may 
have  heard,  was  one  of  these  temperance  cranks  ;  stopped 
selling  whisky  at  the  store  just  as  soon  as  he  took  pos 
session,  and  tried  to  stop  all  the  liquor  selling  for  miles 
around.  The  rummies  hated  him  like  poison ;  some 
think  one  of  them  shot  him.  The  other  theory  is  that  he 
was  shot  because  of  jealousy.  He  was  a  great  ladies' 
man,  and  some  of  the  husbands  round  the  country 


84  Love  and  Liberty. 

breathed  freer  after  he  was  dead.  Nobody  knows  if 
either  theory  is  true,  but  it's  a  great  mystery  anyway," 
and  Tom  pulled  out  his  pipe  and  began  to  smoke. 
"  Have  a  cigar,  Jim?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  was  the  reply,  I  never  have  learned 
to  smoke." 

"Jim,  you're  too  all-fired  pious;!  believe  that's  why 
luck  goes  against  you.  Now,  in  spite  of  all  your  good 
letters  to  me  (which  Sue's  got  in  safe  keeping)  and  all 
your  pious  admonitions,  I  ain't  religious.  Tell  you  the 
truth,  I'm  not  particular  anxious.  I've  got  a  good 
wife  and  three  first-class  children,  the  old  man's  give  me 
the  farm,  and  stock's  all  paid  for;  I  reckon  I'm  all 
right." 

''  The  same  old  Tom,  trying  to  make  me  believe  he 
isn't  anxious  to  be  good,  and  trying  to  bluff  an  old 
friend  to  ease  his  heavy  conscience.  Well,  old  fellow, 
you  appear  to  be  incorrigible,  but  there's  one  thing 
about  it,  your  bark  is  worse  than  your  bite.  Perhaps 
even  now,  you're  not  far  from  the  kingdom." 

"  Maybe  you're  right,  Jim,  I  ain't  swore  for  a  week. 
Sue's  been  at  me  so  much  about  swearing  before  the 
children,  I  really  think  I  must  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

They  went  about  the  old  town ;  now  and  then  they 
came  across  an  old  acquaintance,  but  many  were  dead, 
and  others  moved  away.  They  stayed  with  Tom  that 
night,  and  such  an  evening  as  they  had,  talking  over  old- 
time  times.  James  laughed  like  a  schoolboy ;  he  sang 
some  of  his  old  love  songs,  and  the  one  that  he  used  to 
sing  for  Sue  which  brought  the  blushes  to  that  comely 
matron's  cheek,  and  Tom,  observing,  had  an  awful  pang 
of  jealousy  shoot  through  his  heart.  However,  it  soon 
passed  away.  Samuel  had  never  seen  his  father  so 
merry,  and  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  it,  but  was 
having  such  a  good  time  with  young  Jim,  that  it  didn't 
bother  him  any.  He  soon  found  out  that  Master  Jim 
was  a  great  dunce  on  the  book  line,  and  could  hardly 
read  straight,  but  he  was  "  no  sop  on  any  other  line," 
as  Samuel  declared.  He  could  wrestle  with  him  well, 
though  two  years  younger,  and  knew  as  much  or  more 
about  farming  than  Master  Samuel  himself. 


After  the  Storm.  85 

"  By  gum,"  sung  out  Tom,  "  that  clock's  striking 
eleven.  Jimmie,  my  lad,  you  never  sat  up  like  that  be 
fore." 

"  Nor  I,  either,"  replied  Samuel. 

In  fact  the  older  people  had  been  so  absorbed,  they 
had  forgotten  all  about  the  boys,  who  were  now  hur 
ried  to  bed,  the  others  soon  following. 

The  next  day,  Tom  and  his  oldest  boy  went  fishing 
with  Samuel  and  his  father.  Samuel  could  hardly  con 
tain  himself  over  the  fishing,  and,  strange  to  say  (for 
truth  is  stranger  than  fiction),  they  caught  a  long  string 
of  the  speckled  beauties.  James  showed  Samuel  the  old 
mill  pond  where  once  he  went  swimming  contrary  to 
orders,  and  receive  a  sound  whipping  from  Cap'n 
Spencer  for  his  disobedience. 

"Did  he  whip  thee,   father?"  cried   Samuel. 

"  I  should  say  he  did,"  replied  his  father,  "  I  can  al 
most  feel  the  whipping  now." 

They  all  laughed,  and  going  back  to  Tom's  house, 
James  started  some  of  the  old-time  songs,  and  though 
Samuel  was  a  Quaker  lad,  he  had  a  fine  voice  and 
joined  in  sometimes  with  Tom  and  his  father. 

Another  night  with  Tom  and  Sue,  and  then  they 
started  homeward  by  the  way  of  Judge  Slocum's  in 
Ashton,  for  James  must  needs  see  the  old  Judge  and 
Joe  again,  and  withal,  Bess  Lawton,  the  stately  wife  of 
Joe.  Before  they  reached  the  house,  they  passed  Rocky 
Hill  road,  leading  to  Jake  Billings'  house  where  James 
had  spent  that  night  of  agony  so  long  ago.  He  involun 
tarily  shuddered  as  he  saw  the  place,  and  when  he  came 
to  the  spot  where  the  ruffians  had  struck  and  gagged 
him,  a  groan  escaped  him  at  the  memory  of  the  dreadful 
night.  Shortly  after,  the  fine  proportions  of  Judge  Slo 
cum's  residence  came  into  view.  The  Judge  was  at 
home,  and  so  were  Joe  and  Bess. 

"  James  Fuller,  as  I  live,"  shouted  the  Judge.  Mrs. 
Slocum  senior  rushed  to  the  door  to  grasp  his  hand. 

l<  James,  James,  walk  in.  This  is  a  surprise,  my  dear 
man,  and  this  is  Samuel,  I'm  sure.  Samuel,  you  will 
get  a  warm  greeting  from  this  household ;  they  all  love 
your  father  so  much,  and  will  love  you,  too;"  and  the 


86  Love  and  Liberty. 

good  woman  talked  on  in  her  great  joy.  "  There  comes 
Joe,"  she  continued,  as  a  bronzed,  broad  shouldered 
farmer  rushed  toward  the  house.  lie  shook  James'  hand 
with  an  iron  grip  and  exclaimed,  "  Jim  Fuller,  you're  the 
last  man  I  expected  to  see,  but  I'd  rather  see  you  than 
any  other  man  alive/' 

And  down  the  stairs  came  matron  Bess,  stately  as 
ever, — her  black  eyes  sparkling  with  delight, — saying, 
"  Mr.  Fuller,  do  you  remember  that  night  you  escorted 
me  home  from  Aunt  Betty's  quilting  party  ?  " 

"  O,  Bess,  and  that's  the  way  you  greet  me  after  all 
these  years?  What  are  those  cries  I  hear  up-stairs?" 

"  Those  cries,  sir,  are  the  cries  of  my  boy  just  a  year 
old  to-day ;  and  there  comes  Bessie  round  the  corner,  my 
five-year-old  darling." 

James  took  the  black-eyed  girl  in  his  arms  and  gave 
her  a  kiss  before  she  knew  what  had  happened. 

"  Joe,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  wife  and 
children." 

"  I  am  to  be  congratulated,"  answered  Joe. 

"  Who's  that  coming  up  the  path  ?  "  asked  James. 

"  That,  sir,  is  Lame  Simon.  Hurry  up,  Sime,  here's 
somebody  you  used  to  know." 

Simon  came  limpiinsr  along  till  he  got  a  good  view  of 
James,  then  a  puzzled  look  came  over  his  face,  changing 
into  one  of  joyful  recognition  as  he  took  the  hands  of 
James  and  kissed  them  again  and  again. 

"  O,  Boss,  Boss,  I'm  glad  you've  come;  I  missed  you, 
missed  you  ever  so  much,"  and  the  tears  came  into  the 
simple  fellow's  eyes. 

Joe  was  his  own  Boss  farmer  now,  and  had  several 
men  at  work  for  him.  James  and  Samuel  accompanied 
Joe  over  the  farm,  noting  some  changes  and  improve 
ments,  particularly  in  farm  machinery.  The  Judge  went 
along  and  kept  saying,  "  James,  I  never  had  a  Boss 
farmer  equal  to  you  except  son  Joe." 

"How's  court  business?"  asked  James. 

"  Just  about  the  same  as  usual.  Ashton's  a  pretty 
orderly  town,  especially  since  we  got  rid  of  that  Jake 
Billings  crowd." 

"  Jake  and  Smead  are  out  now,  I  suppose,"  said  James. 


After  the  Storm.  87' 

"  Yes,  been  out  of  prison  over  a  year.  Their  sen 
tence,  you  recollect,  was  for  ten  years.  Neither  of  them, 
however,  showed  up  in  this  neighborhood." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  from  Bill  Jenks  ?  " 

"  No,  not  directly.  Some  of  the  neighbors  say  they 
saw  in  the  paper  that  a  man  by  that  name  in  New  York 
was  sentenced  to  prison  for  a  term  of  years  for  robbery. 
He  never  came  this  way  again." 

After  dinner  the  Judge  got  out  his  weekly  Liberator. 
"Do  you  take  this,  James?" 

''  Yes,  sir,  taken  it  for  fourteen  years." 

"  Good.  I'm  an  Abolitionist  now ;  I  never  would  have 
thought  that  Daniel  Webster  would  turn  his  back  on 
the  cause  of  liberty.  In  his  great  speech,  replying  to 
Hayne,  he  appears  to  believe  in  freedom.  '  Liberty  and 
Union,  one  and  inseparable,  now  and  forever,'  he  cried, 
but  now  he's  apologizing  for  the  slaveholders  and  de 
fending  this  new  fugitive  slave-law." 

"  It's  abominable,"  cried  James.  "  God  pity  us  and 
the  poor  slaves,"  he  continued.  "  I've  been  a  station- 
master  on  the  Underground  Railroad  for  years,  and 
know  some  of  the  horrors  of  this  dreadful  system." 

"  James,  James,  give  me  your  hand.  God  bless  you, 
my  boy !  God  bless  you  I  say  for  helping  the  slaves  to 
freedom.  I've  helped  'em  myself,  you  know,  in  a  finan 
cial  way.  One  of  the  stockholders,  eh  ?  "  and  the  Judge 
gave  his  guest  a  peculiar  smile.  "  What  was  the  number 
of  your  station  ?  " 

"  Number  twenty-five,  New  England  Branch,"  was 
the  answer. 

"  Well,  well,  this  is  a  day  of  good  things.  Going  to 
stay  at  the  homestead  in  Groveland?" 

"  I've  agreed  to  care  for  the  farm  two  years;  father 
Grover  is  getting  old." 

"  We  must  be  neighborly,  neighborly,  James,  re 
member." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Judge." 

At  the  close  of  the  third  day,  James  and  Samuel 
reached  grandmother's  farm,  tired  and  hungry,  but  very 
happy.  Returning  from  Judge  Slocum's,  they  passed 
the  old  farmhouse  where  Ruth  had  died,  but  James 


Love  and  Liberty. 

this  day  could  not  trust  himself  to  visit  that  spot  where 
his  life  had  been  so  fearfully  blighted. 

"  Grandmother,  look  at  those  trout ;  aren't  they  fine?  " 
shouted  Samuel,  springing  from  the  buggy.  "  Father 
and  I  caught  them  at  Wilksville  brook ;  we've  had  a  glo 
rious  time,"  and  the  emotional  boy  swung  his  hat  in  great 
glee.  "Supper  ready?"  he  added,  "we're  awful 
hungry." 

"  It  will  be  ready  soon ;  thee  must  wash  thy  face  and 
comb  thy  hair,  my  boy,"  replied  grandmother. 

That  three  days'  trip  was  the  happiest  time  that  James 
had  spent  since  the  death  of  Ruth. 

Two  years  passed  by.  Father  and  son  grew  more  and 
more  into  each  other's  affection.  James  almost  idolized 
his  boy  as  he  had  the  mother.  The  thing  that  grieved 
him  most  in  Samuel  was  that  fiery  temper,  which  at 
times  nothing  appeared  able  to  control,  yet  the  angry 
fits  would  soon  be  over  and  Samuel  be  meek  and  gentle 
as  a  lamb. 

"  He  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit,  my  boy,  is  greater 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

"  I'll  try,  father,  indeed  I  will,"  and  the  boy  meant  it. 

The  great  storm  of  sorrow  had  passed  over,  and  once 
more  James  Fuller  could  think  and  speak  calmly  of  his 
youthful  bride  so  early  gone  to  heaven. 

Brother-in-law  William  was  to  take  the  farm  next 
year,  and  James  was  going  to  Seaview,  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  the  state,  to  engage  in  a  new  work.  Samuel 
would  remain  at  the  farm  till  he  was  eighteen,  and  then 
learn  a  trade. 

Once  again,  this  time  on  the  twelfth  anniversary  of 
Ruth's  death,  James  visited  with  Samuel  his  wife's 
grave.  The  rose-bush  grew  about  it,  and  that  day  was 
putting  forth  the  budding  leaves,  for  spring  had  come 
again ;  and  there,  to  his  motherless  boy,  he  told  as  never 
before  the  story  of  his  life  and  sorrow,  the  wreck  of  all 
his  hopes,  the  beauty  of  his  lost  wife,  "  who  was  too  good 
for  me,"  said  James,  and  the  great  happiness  he  now  had 
in  Samuel,  "  all  that  is  left  to  me  of  thy  darling  mother, 
my  dear  boy."  Then  taking  a  package  from  his  pocket, 


After  the  Storm.  89 

he  opened  it  and  showed  a  blue  and  gold  book  of  Whit- 
tier's  earlier  poems  with  the  pressed  rose-leaves  inside 
the  cover. 

"  Samuel,"  said  he,  "  this  book  is  the  choicest  token  I 
can  give  thee  of  thy  mother.  She  pressed  it  with 
her  lips  the  day  she  died ;  these  rose-leaves  are  what  is 
left  of  the  roses  she  gave  me  the  first  day  I  called  upon 
her  in  her  home.  For  twelve  years  I  have  sacredly 
guarded  these  treasures ;  I  give  them  now  to  thee  above 
her  grave  and  ask  thee  ever  to  sacredly  treasure  the  gift 
in  remembrance  of  thy  blessed  mother." 

As  he  ceased,  Samuel  broke  into  sobs.  A  great 
solemnity  came  into  his  soul. 

James  continued :  "  More  than  forty  years  of  my  life 
have  passed  away ;  I  am  a  poor  man  and  can  only  give 
thee  my  blessing;  may  God  ever  keep  thy  soul  from 
all  evil,  and  guide  thee  safely  to  thy  mother's  God,  is 
thy  father's  prayer." 

Then,  putting  his  hand  on  the  head  of  his  boy,  he  re 
peated  : 

"  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee ;  the  Lord  make 
His  face  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee ;  the 
Lord  lift  up  His  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee 
peace.  Amen !  " 

They  passed  from  the  sacred  place  to  their  home. 
Samuel  never  forgot  that  hour. 


QO  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE. 

"  GIT  out  th'  way,  ye  blasted  nigger,  what  ye  up  to 
her'?" 

"  I'll  do  jist's  I  mine  to  for  all  o'  you's  bossin'." 

"Ye  will,  will  ye?  Take  that,  ye  son  of  a  gun,  and 
that,  and  that,  ye  tarnation  fool ;  think  Bill  Jenks'll  stan' 
yer  rippin'  sass?  No,  sirree,  not  much,  by  gum." 

He  slapped  and  cuffed  the  negro  right  and  left,  and, 
taken  by  surprise,  the  poor  fellow  fell  beneath  the  blows. 
It  was  in  Keene,  New  York,  near  the  Adirondack  moun 
tains.  Yes,  it  was  our  old  friend  Bill  Jenks,  at  his  tricks 
again.  He  bent  over  the  negro  a  moment,  and  felt  a 
hand  laid  on  his  shoulder. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  him?  " 

He  turned  and  saw  a  young  man  some  twenty  years 
of  age. 

"  We'd  a  muss  and  I  licked  him.  What  ye  got  to  say 
'bout  it  ?  " 

"  Considerable,  sir,  that  man  is  my  friend." 

"  Yer  frien',"  sneered  Bill ;  "  then  pick  up  his  rotten 
carkiss  an'  take  him  off." 

The  negro  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Massa  Horace,  dat  you?" 

"  Yes,  George,  get  up."  With  the  young  man's  assist 
ance,  the  negro  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  was  lookin'  ober  de  fence,  and  dis  man  'gun  to 
blow  on  me,  an'  tole  me,  git  out  de  way.  I  tole  him 
I'd  do  Fse  mine  to  for  all  o'  'im ;  den  he  cuff  an'  slap 
me  'fore  I  knowed  it,  and  knock  me  down." 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Horace,  "  he  shan't  hurt  you 
any  more,"  and  he  took  the  man's  arm  and  led  him 
away. 


An  Old  Acquaintance.  91 

Bill  sneaked  off,  went  back  to  his  house,  still  kept  by 
Nance  Billings,  and  told  her  about  the  affair. 

"  I  'dvise  you  to  let  the  niggers  alone,  Bill,  they've 
got  a  hull  settlement  of  'em  up  here  somewhere  in  the 
mountains.  A  man's  gin  'em  a  big  lot  o'  land,  and 
helpin'  of  'em  to  farm  it." 

"  S'pose  they  have,"  said  Bill,  "  I'll  lick  every  one  I'se 
a  mind  ter,  and  don't  ye  forgit  it." 

"  Bill,"  said  Nance,  "  ye  don't  know  what's  good  fer 
ye.  Haven't  I  allers  took  yer  part,  an'  stood  by  ye 
thro'  thick  an'  thin?  When  ye  got  inter  prison,  didn't 
I  keep  track  o'  ye  and  foller  ye  up  an'  git  this  place 
her'?  Now  go  to  work  an'  'have  yersel'  awhile,  and 
Nance'll  stan'  by  ye,  but  'f  ye  go  foolin'  with  them 
niggers,  ye  kin  take  the  cons'quences,  so  ther',"  and 
Nance  blustered  round  the  room  with  considerable 
vehemence. 

"  Yer  mi'ty  good  all  on  a  sudden,  ain't  ye,  Nance/' 
returned  Bill.  "  Whose  fault  was't  I  got  to  prison,  but 
yer  own?  'f  ye'd  done's  I  told  yer,  I  wouldn't  got 
ketched,  an'  ye  know  it." 

"  Bill  Jenks,  ye  shut  yer  mouth  a-blamin'  me ;  ye  put 
yer  head  inter  the  trap  when  I  warned  ye  they'd  ketch 
ye ;  now  hoi'  yer  tongue.  I  was  goin'  to  tell  ye  that 
there's  a  mi'ty  smart  man  come  up  her'  on  puppos  to 
help  these  niggers ;  they  say  he's  a  ripper ;  has  helped 
lots  on  'em  to  Canady,  and  now  he's  goin'  to  help  this 
lot  to  farm  it  up  in  the  Glens.  Sal  says  folks  better 
look  out  while  he's  roun'." 

This  amiable  couple  had  passed  through  various  ex 
periences  since  we  last  met  them.  They  escaped  to  the 
city  after  the  persecution  of  James  Fuller  on  Jake's 
farm,  and  Bill  got  in  with  a  rough  gang  who  planned  a 
highway  robbery.  Nance  had  warned  him  that  he 
would  be  caught,  and  tried  to  save  him,  but  the  officers 
were  too  sharp  for  her,  and  Bill,  with  two  other  villains, 
was  tried  and  each  of  them  sentenced  to  prison.  Bill, 
for  some  reason,  got  off  with  three  years.  Nance  hung 
round  New  York,  where  he  found  her  after  his  term  was 
out.  There  they  stayed  some  time,  Bill  getting  short  jobs 
and  Nance  picking  up  such  work  as  she  could  find,  so 


92  Love  and  Liberty. 

that  they  managed  to  live  after  their  way.  After  a 
while,  Nance  thought  if  they  could  get  into  the  country 
again,  Bill  might  go  to  work  on  a  farm ;  and  hearing 
that  Sal  Slate,  an  early  crony  of  hers,  was  at  Keene,  got 
Bill  to  go.  They  had  been  here  only  a  few  weeks,  but 
Bill,  lazy  as  ever,  had  shown  no  disposition  to  work. 
His  animosity  had  been  aroused  by  the  inoffensive  negro 
looking  across  the  lot  adjoining  the  small  house  which 
Nance  had  rented  for  their  home,  and  with  his  ac 
customed  bullying,  sought  to  scare  him.  The  negro's 
independence  and  small  size  had  actually  stimulated 
burly  Bill  into  striking  him  down,  with  the  result  already 
described. 

George  Sweet  walked  away  arm  in  arm  with  the  young 
man  who  had  found  him. 

"  Massa  Horace,  it's  awful  discouragin'  ter  try  ter  be 
anybody." 

"  Never  mind  that  fellow,"  said  Horace,  "  he's  a  tough 
customer.  I've  already  heard  that  he's  a  jail-bird,  and 
we  shall  watch  him.  How  do  you  get  on  up  in  the 
Glens?" 

"  Furty  good,  some  of  de  time.  Folks  feelin'  good 
'cause  the  new  Massa  and  fam'ly  cum  to  live  dcre.  Dey 
say  he's  mi'ty  helpful  to  us  poor  cul'ed  folks,  an'  lots  on 
'em  he  has  sent  to  Canady." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,"  answered  Horace.  "  Here,  we  are 
at  home;  come  in  and  I'll  bathe  your  head,  give  you 
something  to  eat,  and  after  a  rest,  you'll  feel  better  and 
can  go  home  to  that  good  wife  and  fine  children  of 
yours." 

Horace  Fuller  took  the  negro  to  the  kitchen,  bathed 
his  bruised  head,  fed  him  and  made  him  lie  down  for  a 
sleep.  Some  hours  later,  the  negro,  profuse  in  his 
thanks,  started  for  his  home  in  the  Glens.  It  was  on 
Gerrit"  Smith's  land,  given  by  that  noble  philanthropist, 
who  ever  labored  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  to  those 
negroes  escaping  from  bondage,  or  such  free  negroes  as 
wished  to  settle  there.  The  land  was  high  up  in  the 
Adirondacks,  rugged  and  bleak,  with  cold  climate.  The 
great  toil  and  hardship  involved  in  hewing  farms  out 
of  this  primitive  wilderness  caused  the  negroes  much 


An  Old  Acquaintance.  93 

discouragement,  but  they  worked  away  as  best  they 
could.  Their  hearts  were  cheered  in  1849  with  the 
coming  of  a  white  man  to  share  their  toil,  give  them 
counsel  and  aid  them  in  every  way  possible. 

George  Sweet  and  his  family,  aided  by  James  Fuller, 
had  finally  reached  this  settlement,  and  George  was  en 
gaged  in  making  a  home  for  his  loved  ones. 

The  morning  in  question,  while  down  in  the  prosper 
ous  farming  community,  to  the  southeast  of  the  Glens, 
on  a  small  business  matter,  he  had  encountered  James 
Fuller's  old  enemy,  Bill,  though  of  course  the  fact  that 
James  had  suffered  from  him  was  unknown  to  the  negro. 

Jesse  Fuller's  family  were  well  known  as  the  friends 
of  the  negroes  settled  in  these  romantic  Glens,  far  up 
the  mountains,  and  the  kindness  of  Horace  to  George, 
whom  he  knew  well,  was  only  a  sample  of  their  good 
will  and  good  deeds.  Jesse  Fuller  was  a  thrifty  man, 
and,  notwithstanding  the  somewhat  rugged  soil  of  the 
section  and  increasing  expense  of  his  family,  had  ac 
cumulated  quite  a  little  property.  He  was  not  over  gen 
erous,  yet  he  never  turned  a  needy  man  from  his  door, 
without  supplying  that  need,  and  for  the  oppressed 
negroes,  he  would  deny  himself  much,  in  order  to  assist 
them.  His  maiden  sister,  Sarah,  lived  near  by,  as  com 
panion  and  nurse  for  an  invalid.  The  brothers  occa 
sionally  corresponded,  and  at  the  death  of  Ruth,  Jesse 
sent  James  an  invitation  to  visit  them.  James  was  too 
sad  at  that  time  to  see  strangers,  but  several  years  later 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  spent  a  winter  with  his 
brother  and  interesting  family.  There  was  a  numerous 
flock  of  children,  "  all  smart  as  a  whip,"  the  New  York 
ers  said  time  and  time  again,  and  when  Mrs.  Fuller 
reached  the  age  of  eighty-five,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  she  had  borne  ten  children,  she  was  hearty  and 
strong  for  her  years.  That  age  was  reached  many  years 
later  than  the  period  mentioned  in  this  chapter,  how 
ever. 

The  particular  members  of  this  family  who  will  be. of 
interest  to  our  readers  were  Horace,  already  mentioned 
who  had  graduated  with  first  honors  at  a  noted  academy 
two  years  before  this  date,  his  sisters  Marion  and  Ada, 


94  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  a  younger  brother,  Gerald.  Marion's  beauty  and 
brilliant  mind  attracted  the  young  men  for  many  miles 
around.  We  would  not  dare  repeat  all  the  compli 
mentary  words  which  were  spoken  concerning  this 
charming  young  woman.  She  was  without  doubt  a  very 
fine  lady.  Ada  was  a  hunchback,  hurt  in  infancy,  and 
had  been  a  great  sufferer.  It  was  whispered  that  Marion 
was  not  over  kind  to  her,  but  as  the  reader  will  have 
ample  opportunity  to  judge  concerning  the  matter,  we 
will  say  no  more  about  it. 


Up  the  Adirondacks. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

UP  THE  ADIRONDACKS. 

THE  Fullers  lived  in  Keene,  near  Westport,  the  latter 
a  town  on  Lake  Champlain,  south  of  the  mouth  of  the 
Au  Sable.  From  Westport,  travellers  usually  started 
to  go  into  the  Adirondack  wilderness.  The  day  follow 
ing  the  adventure  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  Horace 
went  towards  the  settlement  in  North  Elba,  determined 
to  see  the  man  who  had  settled  in  these  solitudes  from 
desire  to  help  those  colored  refugees.  It  was  a  beauti 
ful  July  day.  The  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  Adiron 
dack  region  are  well  known.  The  romantic  scenery  at 
tracts  every  lover  of  nature.  The  mountains  rise  in  their 
strength  and  beauty  on  every  side.  Massive  forests 
clothe  the  slopes  and  fill  the  plains,  except  where  some 
farm  has  been  rescued  by  the  hand  of  man  from  the  wil 
derness,  and  the  shadowy  gloom. 

Horace  went  on,  his  emotional  soul  stirred  with  de 
light  at  all  the  wild  and  sublime  scene,  while  his  heart 
was  keyed  to  loftiest  strains  of  praise,  looking  up 
through  Nature  to  Nature's  God.  The  air  was  fragrant 
with  the  perfume  of  hemlock,  spruce  and  balsams.  The 
foaming  torrents,  clear  as  crystal,  rushed  down  the 
mountain  sides,  and  passed  along  the  glens,  forming 
streams  with  white  sandy  bottoms.  Far  up  the  rugged 
peaks  towered  old  Tahawus  (Mount  Marcy)  rising  one 
and  a  quarter  miles  above  sea  level ;  and,  glistening  in 
the  sunshine  lay  the  beautiful  lakes  between  the  echo 
ing  mountains.  Over  to  the  left  was  a  notch  between 
Mounts  Marcy  and  Mclntyre,  called  Indian  Pass ;  a 
dark  ravine  formed  by  two  close  parallel  walls  which 
rose  thirteen  hundred  feet  in  height,  nearly  perpendic 
ular  cliffs,  dark  and  shadowy.  From  the  highest  level 
of  the  Pass  flowed  two  mountain  streams  in  opposite 


96  Love  and  Liberty. 

directions,  one  the  source  of  the  Hudson,  reaching"  the 
Atlantic,  the  other  the  source  of  the  Au  Sable,  which 
flows  into  Lake  Champlain,  and  thence  into  the  Gulf 
of  St.  Lawrence.  The  mountains  waved  with  bushes 
and  woods,  green  to  their  summits,  except  old  White 
Face,  rising  at  the  head  of  Lake  Placid,  its  white  or 
grayish  side  probably  caused  by  a  landslide.  On  the 
farms  were  built  log  cabins  and  around  them  grew  the 
cultivated  crops,  while  the  meadows  and  woods  were  full 
of  wild  fruits. 

From  Keene,  over  the  mountain  went  Horace  to  North 
Elba,  and  never  tired  of  all  the  sublimity  of  that  grand 
scene.  The  song  of  the  Swiss  mountaineers  came  to  his 
mind : 

"  For  the  strength  of  the  hills,  we  bless  thee, 
Our  God,  our  father's  God, 
Thou  hast  made  thy  children  mighty, 
By  the  touch  of  the  mountain  sod." 

In  the  afternoon,  Horace  came,  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
beauty,  to  a  one-story  house  occupied  by  a  settler.  It 
was  the  second  house  that  he  had  reached  while  crossing 
the  mountain  from  his  home.  There  was  a  good,  sub 
stantial  barn  near  by.  Old  White  Face,  a  few  miles 
away,  towered  sublimely,  while  all  around  were  distant 
mountain  summits.  A  number  of  fine  Devon  cattle 
grazed  in  the  pasture  close  at  hand.  Horace  rapped, 
and  a  youifg^  woman  about  his  own  age  came  to  the  door. 

"  Is  the  gentleman  at  home?" 

"  He  is  somewhere  about,"  answered  the  maiden ;  "  I 
will  call  him." 

She  soon  returned,  accompanied  by  a  middle-aged 
man.  He  was  tall  and  gaunt,  of  rather  dark  complex 
ion,  dressed  in  an  old,  rough  suit  of  brown,  wich  cow 
hide  boots,  and  had  a  grave  and  serious  countenance. 
There  was  an  unconscious  dignity  about  him  which 
impressed  Horace  at  once.  He  was  close  shaven, 
with  a  fine,  wide  mouth,  positive  chin  and  eagle 
eyes  of  bluish  gray,  flashing  with  energy.  His  hair 
was  dark  brown,  sprinkled  with  gray,  short  and 
bristling,  and  his  forehead  was  of  medium  height 
and  width ;  he  had  an  aquiline  nose,  large  ears, 


Up  the  Adirondacks.  97 

angular  frame  and  a  deep,  metallic  voice.  Walking 
slowly  into  the  room,  he  extended  his  hand  to  Horace. 

"  You  are  welcome,"  he  said  kindly. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  answered  Horace.  "  I 
live  a  few  miles  below  you,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain,  and,  hearing  of  your  arrival,  came  to  greet 
you  and  bid  you  welcome  to  this  region." 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  meet  a  friend,  and  I  trust  we  shall 
become  well  acquainted.  This  is  a  most  beautiful  sec 
tion  of  country." 

While  speaking,  there  was  a  firm,  decided  set  of  the 
mouth,  a  nervous  twitch  of  the  head,  and  a  flash  of  the 
eye. 

"  I  was  born  close  to  Westport  and  delight  in  the  ro 
mantic  scenery,"  said  Horace. 

"  I  haye  never  seen  anything  to  equal  it,"  was  the 
response.  "  I  would  like  to  live  my  whole  life  here  and 
be  buried  in  one  of  these  glens." 

"  I  see  you  have  some  fine  Devons." 

"Ah,"  said  the  host,  brightly,  "aren't  they  fine?  I 
am  to  raise  some  of  this  breed  for  the  annual  cattle  show 
of  the  county ;  we  like  fine  stock." 

'  These  are  the  first  of  this  stock  I  have  seen  in  these 
mountains,"  returned  Horace ;  "  you'll  be  the  envy  of  all 
your  neighbors." 

A  rare  smile  came  across  the  man's  face,  lighting 
up  its  rugged  strength. 

"  I  will  care  for  your  horse,  my  friend,  and  we  will 
look  over  the  stock  and  horses.  Your  name  is ?" 

"  Fuller,"  replied  Horace. 

"And  yours?"  asked  Horace. 

"  John  Brown." 

The  horse  was  cared  for,  the  farm  examined  and  the 
cattle  and  poultry  admired.  Horace  was  invited  to 
supper,  and  asked  to  remain  over  night. 

"  Our  house  is  small,  Mr.  Fuller,  and  there  are  ten  of 
us  including  our  colored  man,  but  we'll  do  the  best  we 
can  for  you." 

"  I  dislike  to  burden  you,  Mr.  Brown,  but  zvoiild  like 
to  talk  with  you  about  these  negroes  settled  in  the  moun- 

7 


98  Love  and  Liberty. 

tains.  \Ye  are  Abolitionists  at  our  house  and  greatly 
interested  in  the  freedom  and  welfare  of  the  slave." 

"  My  friend,  you  will  not  burden  us  if  you  can  put  up 
with  our  hospitality.  My  home  is  ever  open  to  any  in 
terested  in  the  freedom  of  the  slave,  and  you  are  the 
very  man  I  wish  to  see.  God  is  surely  to  raise  up  men 
who  will  break  the  bondmen's  fetters,  and  let  the  op 
pressed  go  free."  And  that  strange  light  came  into  the 
man's  face  again.  They  entered  the  house.  There  was 
a  good-sized  room  which  answered  for  kitchen,  dining- 
room  and  parlor,  with  a  pantry  and  two  bedrooms  on 
the  lower  floor. 

"  We  have  room  in  the  upper  part  for  lodging,"  said 
Brown,  so  that  whenever  a  stranger  or  wayfaring  man, 
be  he  white  or  black,  enters  our  gates,  he  is  not  turned 
away." 

Supper  was  ready  and  they  turned  to  the  table. 
Every  eye  was  closed  and  there  was  perfect  silence  as 
John  Brown  reverently  asked  God's  blessing  on  the 
food.  At  the  table  were  the  wife,  five  children  and  the 
young  colored  man,  Cyrus.  Two  smaller  children  had 
already  been  put  to  bed.  All  at  the  table  were  intro 
duced  to  Horace  the  colored  man  as  formally  as  any. 
The  meal  was  substantial,  wholesome  and  neatly  served. 
Horace  found  his  host  well  informed  on  nearly  all  sub 
jects,  particularly  in  the  natural  sciences.  He  had  a 
small  library  and  had  evidently  read  the  books.  After 
supper  wras  over  and  the  younger  children  had  retired, 
Horace  and  Brown  engaged  in  conversation  concerning 
the  cause  of  freedom. 


John  Brown.  99 


t  CHAPTER  XX. 

JOHN  BROWN. 

"WHERE  was  the  place  of  your  birth,  Mr.  Brown?" 

"  At  Torrington,  Conn.,  May  9,  1800,"  answered 
Brown.  "  My  father,  however,  moved  to  Ohio  when  I 
was  five  years  of  age,  and  I  have  lived  much  of  my  life 
in  that  state.  I  early  became  a  cattle  driver  and  wit 
nessed  the  surrender  of  Hull  to  the  English  at  Detroit 
in  1812." 

"  I  suppose  you  like  military  life." 

"  I've  always  despised  it  and  paid  fines  to  avoid  train 
ing,"  was  the  answer. 

"  May  I  ask  what  is  your  business?  " 

"  A  dealer  in  wool  at  present,  though  I  learned  the 
trade  of  a  tanner  and  currier." 

"  How  did  you  first  become  interested  in  the  colored 
race?" 

"  By  seeing  a  negro  slave  boy  about  my  own  age  badly 
treated  and  beaten  before  me.  He  was  also  poorly  clad 
and  had  no  decent  shelter.  This  led  me  to  reflect  on  the 
wretched  condition  of  slave  children,  and  since  that  I 
have  given  much  attention  to  the  subject.  I  talked  with 
my  friends  and  neighbors,  and  often  could  not  restrain 
my  tears  when  hearing  of  the  cruelty  to  slaves.  Since 
1839,  I  have  cherished  the  idea  of  becoming  one  of  the 
liberators  of  this  unhappy  race  from  bondage." 

"Will  you  continue  your  business  in  Springfield?" 
asked  Horace. 

"  Difficulties  have  come  in  my  business  relations  with 
the  firm,  and  next  month  I  ship  a  cargo  of  wool  to 
London, — some  two  hundred  thousand  pounds, — and  go 
to  sell  it.  I  hope  to  sell  it  well,  as  many  issues  are  de 
pending  upon  this  venture." 


ioo  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  settle  in  this  region  ?  " 

"  I've  always  been  interested  in  farming  and  good 
stock,"  returned  Brown  ;  "  so  when  I  heard  of  Gerrit 
Smith's  offer  of  land  to  the  negroes,  I  offered  to  take 
a  farm  here  and  assist  them  by  advice  and  be  a  kind 
of  father  to  them.  Last  month  I  moved  my  family  here, 
with  the  exception  of  some  older  children,  by  my  first 
wife,  who  are  located  elsewhere.  I  intend  to  make  this 
our  permanent  home,  but  shall  be  away  much  on  busi 
ness,  and  while  pursuing  my  plans  to  liberate  the  slaves, 
this  will  be  a  good  refuge  for  my  wife  and  children, 
where  they  wall  be  safe  and  independent.  Our  colored 
man  here  is  a  runaway  slave." 

"  What  is  the  condition  of  the  negroes  settled  on  these 
lands  ?" 

"  Most  of  them  are  intelligent  and  industrious,  but 
have  been  cheated  by  the  surveyors.  I've  been  survey 
ing  the  land,  and  helping  them  locate  on  land  actually 
belonging  to  them.  We  have  also  given  them  quantities 
of  provisions  and  cloth.  At  first,  their  life  here  will  be 
difficult,  but  I  hope  eventually  they  will  build  up  a 
strong  community.  I'm  right  glad,  Mr.  Fuller,  you 
called  on  us,"  continued  Brown,  "  and  may  1  interest 
you  in  some  of  my  plans  for  freedom  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  hear  them,"  returned  Horace. 

They  talked  till  a  late  hour  concerning  Brown's 
schemes.  Then  the  host  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  and 
offered  an  earnest  prayer,  after  which  they  retired  for  the 
night. 

The  next  morning,  they  were  all  up  early.  After 
breakfast  and  prayers,  Horace  and  Brown  went  into  the 
yard. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen,  can  we  get  something  to 
eat?" 

The  questioner  was  one  of  three  men  of  rather  forlorn 
appearance  who  had  just  arrived  at  the  house. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Brown.     "  What  is  your  name?" 

"  Richard  H.  Dana,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  this 
is ?" 

"  John  Brown,  sir." 

"  Mr.   Brown,   these   are   my    friends,   Mr.    Aiken   of 


John  Brown.  101 

Westport,  and  Mr.  Metcalf  of  Massachusetts.  We've 
been  lost  in  the  woods  all  night,  have  had  nothing  to 
eat  since  yesterday  morning,  and  are  nearly  starved." 

"  Daughter,"  called  Brown  at  the  door,  "  can  you  get 
some  breakfast  for  three  hungry  men  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  father,"  was  the  answer. 

The  men  were  so  hungry  that  they  could  not  wait  for 
food  to  be  cooked,  but  eagerly  ate  bread  and  milk,  then 
went  up-stairs  and  slept  for  several  hours.  A  cooked 
dinner  of  venison,  speckled  trout  and  other  substantiate 
was  provided  them,  but  they  ate  less  ravenously  than  in 
the  morning. 

Horace,  after  further  conversation  concerning  the 
freedom  of  the  slave,  bade  Brown  and  his  family  good- 
by,  and  returned  to  his  home.  His  opinions  concerning 
this  earnest  man  were  of  an  exalted  character. 

"  Father,"  said  Horace  to  Jesse,  "  John  Brown  is 
ordained  of  God  for  some  great  work." 


IO2  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MARION   AND  ADA. 

BEAUTIFUL  Marion  and  deformed  Ada  were  so  unlike 
they  would  never  have  been  taken  for  sisters.  "  Favor 
is  deceitful  and  beauty  is  vain,  but  a  woman  that  feareth 
the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised,"  is  a  statement  from  an 
old  book  which  some  people  read  with  profit. 

At  the  time  Horace  visited  John  Brown,  a  young  man 
from  Westport  had  been  paying  attention  to  Marion 
Fuller.  He  was  not  the  only  man  who  sought  her  favor, 
but  was  the  favored  swain  at  this  particular  time.  He 
was  not  favored  by  the  family,  however.  Jesse  Fuller 
felt  a  strange  repugnance  to  Lawrence  Lyons,  in  which 
his  wife  fully  sympathized.  He  came  of  a  good  enough 
family ;  in  fact  his  father  was  one  of  the  principal  men 
of  Westport ;  but  they  wrere,  altogether,  people  of  the 
world  with  wealth  and  station,  and  no  interest  in  the 
things  which  Jesse  counted  important.  Not  that  he 
thought  wealth  and  station  undesirable,  for  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  had  been  known  to  value  money  and  position 
as  of  considerable  worth.  Yet,  with  all  of  Jesse's  thrifty 
ways,  no  one  ever  had  accused  him  of  sacrificing  prin 
ciple  for  money  or  office.  Lyons  senior  was  a  Southern 
sympathizer  and  rabid  pro-slavery  man,  which  of  itself 
prejudiced  Jesse  and  his  family  against  Lawrence. 
Then,  the  son  had  a  reputation  for  being  "  fast,"  though 
they  knew  nothing  of  absolute  evil  concerning  him. 
Marion's  parents  had  both  warned  her  about  him.  The 
warning  she  had  taken  with  exceeding  ill  grace,  but  they 
tried  to  hope  that  no  evil  would  come  of  his  partiality 
for  their  beautiful  daughter. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  snapped  Marion,  "  if  a  young  man 
can't  wait  on  me  without  stirring  up  such  a  commotion. 


Marion  and  Ada.  103 

What  have  you   against  him  ? "   and  those   black   eyes 
flashed. 

"  My  daughter,"  responded  her  mother,  "  we  have  told 
you  that  we  know  nothing  positively  against  Lawrence. 
We  wish  to  do  him  no  injury  in  any  way,  but  his  repu 
tation  is  not  good  and  we  think  there  can  really  be 
nothing  congenial  between  you.  His  circumstances  are 
much  above  ours,  and  he  certainly  could  select  some  lady 
companion  in  his  own  circle,  so  we  fear  his  choice  of 
your  company  may  be  from  unworthy  motives." 

"If  he  chooses  me,  it's  because  he  likes  me  better  than 
some  others,  isn't  it?  I  think  it's  too  bad  that  a  girl 
nineteen  years  old  should  be  watched  like  a  little  child 
because  she  has  a  beau.  I  like  Lawrence,  and  he  is  the 
finest  young  man  that  has  ever  paid  me  attention." 

"  You  should  not  speak  to  me  in  such  a  manner ;  I  am 
greatly  grieved  with  you."  Saying  this,  she  left  the 
room,  went  to  her  chamber  and  cried  over  her  handsome 
but  wilful  daughter. 

Lawrence  continued  his  visits  to  Marion,  and  the  more 
he  came,  the  more  wilful  and  headstrong  Marion  grew. 
She  refused  all  advice  and  warning,  and  appeared  de 
termined  that  Lawrence  and  no  other  suitor  should  re 
ceive  her  favors. 

One  evening,  while  calling,  he  invited  her  to  accompany 
him  to  a  fashionable  ball  soon  to  be  given  in  West- 
port. 

"  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  next 
Wednesday  evening  at  the  ball  ?  " 

"  My  people  are  opposed  to  balls,"  said  Marion. 

"  Surely  you  think  it  no  harm  to  dance,  Miss  Fuller  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  taught  that  waltzing  and  the  round 
dance  are  not  suitable  pleasures  for  good  young  women." 

;i  Your  people  must  be  pretty  strict,"  said  Lawrence. 

He  well  knew  that  they  were  strongly  orthodox. 
'  They  are  not  more  strict  than  most  of  our  friends 
on  this  point,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Really,  Miss  Marion,  I  fear  you  are  over  nice  about 
this.  Grant  me  this  favor  for  once,"  urged  he. 

"  I  will  seriously  offend  my  parents  if  I  do,"  she 
answered. 


IO4  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Your  parents  cannot  object  to  such  society  as  will 
be  present  that  night.  It  is  the  elite  of  our  little  town 
who  are  invited." 

"  I  ought  not  to  go,"  said  Marion. 

"  This  once,  Miss  Fuller,"  and  Lawrence  looked  up 
beseechingly  into  her  eyes.  At  length,  thus  urged  by  her 
fashionable  and  handsome  lover  (for  she  thought  of  him 
as  such),  she  gave  a  reluctant  consent.  Marion,  how 
ever,  was  not  at  ease,  as  soon  as  she  had  consented.  She 
did  not  mean  to  be  wicked,  and  really  thought  her  par 
ents  over  particular,  though  deep  in  her  heart  she  did 
not  think  such  a  ball  as  that  would  be  quite  the  place  for 
her.  After  Lawrence  left,  at  a  late  hour  (too  late  she 
knew  her  parents  would  think),  she  was  much  disturbed. 
She  had  agreed  to  that  which  she  knew  would  greatly 
grieve  her  family,  and  which  her  own  conscience  con 
demned.  Ada,  \vho  shared  her  room,  was  awake  when  she 
entered. 

"  Marion,  clear,  what  will  papa  say  about  Lawrence 
staying  so  late?  It's  half  past  two  o'clock." 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  says.  Why  don't  you  go  to 
sleep,  you  spy  ?  " 

"  O,  Marion,  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep.  I  tried,  indeed  I 
did." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ;  you  wanted  to  see  what 
time  I  came  to  bed." 

"  Marion,  darling,  don't  scold  me  to-night,  I  love  you 
so  much,"  sobbed  Ada,  "  and  I've  been  praying  for  you. 
We're  all  proud  of  you,  my  beautiful  sister.  Give  Ada 
a  kiss,  and  I'll  go  to  sleep  quick  as  ever  I  can,"  and  she 
attempted  to  put  her  arms  about  Marion.  But  Marion 
pushed  her  away,  saying,  "  I  shan't  kiss  you,  and  I  don't 
want  any  of  your  prayers,  you  little  pest ;  you're  the 
bother  of  my  life." 

Really  the  reader  must  not  think  too  harshly  of  this 
beautiful  girl.  I  protest  that  she  did  love  Ada,  though  of 
course  you  would  not  think  so  by  her  action ;  but  Marion 
was  unhappy ;  she  was  troubled  by  her  own  act ;  her 
heart  was  not  at  rest ;  to  tell  the  truth,  she  did  not  sleep 
that  night.  Ada,  after  an  hour  of  quiet  sobbing,  dropped 
into  a  troubled  slumber.  Once  when  Marion  knew  that 


Marion  and  Ada.  105 

she  was  asleep,  Ada  cried  out  in  a  startled  voice :  "  I  do 
love  you,  Marion,  my  beautiful  sister." 

That  cry  stung"  Marion  deep  in  her  soul. 

O,  Marion !  if  you  only  knew,  if  you  only  knew  the 
future,  you  would  not  be  so  unkind. 

Marion  never  forgot  that  night. 


io6  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    BALL. 

WEDNESDAY  night  came.  Marion  had  been  obliged  to 
summon  courage  and  tell  her  mother  of  her  promise  to 
go  with  Lawrence  to  the  ball. 

"  I  am  sorry,  my  daughter,"  was  all  she  said,  but 
Marion  knew  that  she  was  bitterly  hurt. 

The  modern  dance  has  turned  many  young  women 
into  the  downward  road,  and  the  beautiful  daughter  was 
no  exception.  Marion,  moreover,  had  acted  against  her 
convictions  of  right,  which  is  always  a  dangerous  course, 
and  it  made  her  unhappy. 

The  reader  may  say  that  those  convictions  were  based 
on  wrong  instruction.  That,  however,  did  not  free  her 
from  condemnation.  She  had  deliberately  planned  to  do 
what  she  believed  was  a  wrong  act,  stifling  the  voice  of 
conscience,  and  had  taken  a  step  in  the  evil  way. 

When  Lawrence  came,  she  was  very  beautiful.  Her 
dress  was  of  fine  white  muslin,  trimmed  with  rich  lace 
and  ribbons,  which  set  off  her  charming  complexion  to 
great  advantage.  It  was  cut  low  in  the  neck,  with  short 
sleeves  after  the  style  of  those  days,  and  Marion  had  a 
lovely  round  neck  and  a  plump  arm,  over  which  the 
young  men  fairly  raved.  Her  heavy  dark  hair,  combed 
in  a  fashionable  way,  added  to  the  general  effect,  while 
her  daintv  little  feet,  encased  in  elegant  "white  slippers, 
completed  the  outfit.  Lawrence  brought  her  some  ex 
quisite  flowers.  She  threw  a  fancy  shawl  about  her 
shoulders,  took  his  arm  as  he  conducted  her  to  the  car 
riage,  and  they  drove  away. 

"  Wasn't   she  perfectly  lovely,"  exclaimed   Ada. 

"  She  was  very  handsome,"  said  Horace,  "  but  I  wish 
she  wasn't  going  to  that  ball." 

Jesse  and  his  wife  said  little.    They  had  a  presentiment 


The  Ball.  107 

of  coming  trouble,  but  what  could  they  do  except  pray 
for  their  darling  cnild? 

Lawrence  was  very  attentive.  Marion  was  certainly 
bewitching,  and  he  told  her  so.  She  laughed  in  his  face 
and  that  bewitched  him  still  more.  He  kissed  her  blush 
ing  cheek. 

"  That  was  done  without  permission,  sir." 

"  You  are  my  permission,"  quoth  he. 

"  You  naughty  Lawrence." 

"  And  you  are  my  divine  Marion,"  was  the  answer. 

They  arrived  at  the  ball.  It  was  a  comparatively  small 
affair,  but  very  stylish.  Marion  knew  how  to  dance  and 
had  occasionally  indulged  in  a  home-dance  with  her  girl 
companions  and  farmer  friends,  but  never  such  dancing  as 
this.  She  was  introduced  to  the  best  society  of  the  town. 
Young  men  claimed  her  hand,  but  she  clung  closely  to 
Lawrence,  dancing  only  two  sets  with  others.  Lawrence 
wanted  no  one  else  that  night  any  more  than  Marion 
desired  other  young  men. 

"  You  are  a  goddess,"  he  cried,  whereat  she  blushed 
so  lovely  that  he  scarce  refrained  from  kissing  her  before 
them  all. 

Her  convictions  of  wrong-doing  had  all  passed  away. 
She  grew  intoxicated  with  pleasure.  Refreshments  with 
wine  were  served.  Lawrence  drank  freely.  She  was 
constrained  to  drink  one  glass,  a  thing  she  had  never 
done  before.  She  felt  very  happy  now,  and  the  dance 
wrent  on.  Merrily,  and  yet  more  merrily,  went  the  music, 
and  pattering  upon  the  floor  the  tread  of  many  feet. 

"  Wasn't  that  waltz  glorious  ?  "  whispered  Lawrence. 

"  Lovely,"  said  Marion,  "  let's  have  another ;  "  and 
round  they  went  again  and  yet  again.  At  three  o'clock 
the  ball  was  over. 

Lawrence  and  Marion,  flushed,  heated,  excited  and  in 
fatuated  with  each  other,  went  from  the  room. 

"  Let's  take  a  walk  before  we  order  the  carriage,"  said 
Lawrence. 

"  Isn't  it  rather  late  ?  "  answered  Marion. 

"  It's  only  for  once,"  whispered  Lawrence,  and  drew 
her  close  in  his  arm,  then  kissed  her  twice,  thrice. 

"  O,  what  rapture,"  thought  Marion. 


io8  Love  and  Liberty. 

They  went  out  into  the  shrubbery  of  the  garden  and 
walked  across  the  green,  into  the  fields  beyond.  The 
silent  stars  looked  down  upon  them  alone  together  in  the 
summer  night. 

O  Marion !  Marion !  good  angels  guard  thce  now ! 
Marion  !  O  Marion  ! 

It  was  after  five  o'clock  that  morning  when  the  beauti 
ful  daughter  reached  her  father's  home. 


New  Faces.  109 


CHATER  XXIII. 

NEW   FACES. 

WE  will  now  take  our  readers  to  the  shores  of  a  beauti 
ful  bay  on  our  New  England  coast.  On  the  hillside, 
gradually  rising  from  the  water's  edge,  lies  a  town  famous 
for  its  views  and  charming  scenery.  It  has  been  com 
pared  to  the  city  of  Naples,  and  is  called  Seaview.  Far 
up  the  heights  stands  a  substantial  group  of  buildings 
in  which  many  New  England  youth  obtained  their  first 
knowledge  of  boarding-school  life.  The  town  has  an 
aristocracy,  but  also  humble  people.  Fishermen  line  the 
shore  where  they  earn  a  scanty  livelihood.  Well-to-do 
people  occupy  pleasant  homes.  The  main  street  is  beauti 
fully  shaded  with  fine  old  trees.  There  are  several  fac 
tories  and  shops  in  the  village,  and  excellent  stores  of 
various  kinds  are  scattered  along  the  streets.  The  noisy 
locomotive  rumbles  through  the  town,  and  ten  miles 
away  is  the  great  city. 

As  we  write  these  lines,  the  ubiquitous  trolley  car 
passes  along  the  streets,  though  this  was  not  the  case  fifty 
years  ago,  the  period  of  which  we  speak. 

In  this  town  lived  a  worthy  man,  a  cabinetmaker  by 
trade.  He  was  tall,  angular,  severe  in  manner,  but  had  a 
kind  heart.  His  wife  was  a  Martha  among  women, 
always  at  work,  and  wo  be  to  the  person  who  shirked 
in  her  presence,  yet,  strange  to  say,  a  freak  of  nature 
gave  her  a  lazy  son.  He  wouldn't  work  and  he  would 
eat,  and  they  were  poor.  The  name  of  this  family  was 
Gardiner,  the  husband's  name  John,  and  the  wife  Eunice. 
There  were  three  sons,  and  four  daughters  who  grew  to 
adult  age.  George  was  the  lazy  son.  He  wouldn't  go  to 
school,  though  his  father  or  mother  (more  often  the 
mother)  frequently  whipped  him  half-way  there,  but  he 


no  Love  and  Liberty. 

would  go  to  all  the  shows,  frequent  rum  saloons,  get 
into  street  rights,  and  received  several  broken  heads.  His 
parents  persevered  with  him  till  he  could  read  and  write 
a  little,  and  do  fairly  well  the  first  four  rules  of  arith 
metic,  then  gave  up  in  despair.  He  proved  to  be  a  nat 
ural  genius  and  artist,  and  could  paint  and  paper  with 
the  best  journeymen  painters. 

Thomas  ran  away  to  sea ;  we  shall  hear  from  him 
later  on. 

The  girls  were  all  good,  sensible  and  industrious ;  the 
two  youngest  bright  and  itelligent.  Lucy  was  next  to 
the  youngest  child,  and  at  the  date  of  which  we  write, 
was  unmarried,  and  yet  had  passed  her  twenty-fifth  birth 
day.  Like  other  members  of  her  family  she  had  to  work 
and  did  her  full  share  in  the  maintenance  of  the  home.  A 
few  years  previous  to  this  introduction,  she  had  joined 
the  church,  and  was  a  good  Methodist. 

Lucy  was  above  the  average  height,  well-proportioned, 
with  broad,  high  forehead,  hazel  eyes,  dark  hair,  with  a 
strength  and  firmness  about  her  that  compelled  atten 
tion  and  respect ;  good,  pure  and  true.  People  loved 
her  and  her  matter-of-fact  way  made  hosts  of  friends. 
She  had  suitors,  but  none  to  her  fancy,  for  Lucy  Gardiner, 
mind  you,  was  particular  in  her  choice.  Lucy  had  a 
close  friend  named  Sadie  Greene.  One  day  they  were 
shopping  in  Scaview,  and  passing  out  one  of  the  stores, 
met  a  man  who  looked  familiar,  and  bowed  to  them. 

"Who  is  that,  Sadie?" 

"Don't  you  know?"  said  Sadie;  "he's  the  man  we 
met  at  meeting  Sunday  night  ;  you  remember  that  he 
spoke,  said  he  was  a  stranger  here,  and  we  shook  hands 
with  him  after  meeting.  He  has  only  been  in  town  a  few 
months,  and  works  at  the  new  shop." 

"  I  remember  now,"  said  Lucy.  "  Where  does  he 
live?  " 

"  Mother  says  he  boards  with  a  Mrs.  Slocum  on  Pearl 
Street." 

"  Hasn't  he  fine  blue  eyes  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  I  didn't  notice,"  was  the  answer. 

"  That  seems  a  little  odd,  Lou,  that  you  should  notice 
his  eyes.  He  isn't  very  young,  though  he  really  doesn't 


New  Faces.  in 

look  very  old.  How  did  you  come  to  observe  him  so 
particularly  ?  " 

"  I  didn't,"  returned  Lou. 

"  Why,  Lou  Gardiner,  you're  blushing,  as  sure  as  I 
live,"  exclaimed  Sadie. 

"  Modest  girls  do  blush  sometimes,"  said  Lou.  And 
so  they  rattled  on. 

The  next  Sunday  night,  this  man  was  at  church  again. 
When  Lucy  Gardiner  entered,  she  saw  him,  and  invol 
untarily  the  blood  rushed  to  her  face  as  Sadie  gave  her 
a  nudge  and  whispered,  "  There's  your  gentleman,  Lou." 

"  Hush,"  said  her  companion. 

The  meeting  progressed  and  again  the  stranger  took 
part.  He  spoke  in  a  simple  way  of  his  spiritual  tempta 
tions  and  struggles,  and  without  any  details  impressed 
the  people  that  he  had  deeply  suffered,  but  was  now  at 
peace.  There  was  an  odd  manner  with  him.  He  ap 
peared  somewhat  rustic  in  his  ways ;  some  of  his  words 
were  spoken  in  declamatory  style,  but  all  were  im 
pressed  with  his  sincerity.  Lou  usually  spoke  at  these 
social  meetings,  and  to-night  gave  her  testimony,  but  her 
mischievous  companion  had  so  disturbed  her  with  low 
whispers  and  sly  looks,  that  she  was  not  perfectly  at 
ease. 

It  was  their  custom  to  greet  one  another  after  meeting, 
and  Lucy  again  shook  hands  with  the  stranger,,  but  Sadie 
Greene  had  so  confused  her  that  the  hand  trembled. 
She  heard  a  friend  ask  his  name. 

"  James  Fuller,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Come  to  the  morning  preaching  service,"  said  the 
brother. 

"  I  usually  attend  the  Friends'  service  on  the  hill  First 
Day  mornings,"  responded  Fuller,  "  but  may  come  here 
sometimes." 

"  When  Lou  and  Sadie  passed  out  of  church,  Sadie  ex 
claimed,  "  Why,  Lou  Gardiner,  I  really  believe  he  is  a 
Quaker." 

"Suppose  he  is,"  returned  Lou,  "what  of  it?" 

"  O,  you  silly  girl,  you're  really  struck  with  that  man, 
and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  he's  old  enough  to  be  your 
father,  and  perhaps  has  a  wife  and  ten  children." 


ii2  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Sadie  Greene,  if  you  don't  stop  your  nonsense,  I'll 
never  go  to  meeting  with  you  again." 

"  No  danger  of  that,  Miss  Lou,  you'll  want  me  to  go  to 
that  sociable  with  you,  Thursday  evening,  at  Mrs.  John 
son's.  Perhaps  Mr.  Fuller  will  be  there.  Do  Quakers 
go  to  sociables  ?  "  continued  Sadie. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  they  do  or  not,"  snapped  Lou. 

The  Thursday  night  sociable  was  well  attended.  Sadie 
and  Lucy  were  on  hand  as  usual,  and,  strange  to  say, 
Mr.  Fuller  was  also  there.  It  was  the  first  social  gather 
ing  James  had  attended  since  the  death  of  his  wife,  and 
he  hesitated  to  go,  but  he  seemed  drawn  by  some  irre 
sistible  impulse  and  went.  The  practise  of  yielding  to 
some  inward  impulse  or  impression  is  frequent  among  the 
Friends.  James  was  not  dressed  for  a  fashionable  oc 
casion,  yet  he  was  neat  and  respectable.  The  gathering 
was  really  a  sociable,  not  one  of  these  stiff,  unhappy 
times,  which  sometimes,  in  modern  days,  pass  for  a  so 
ciable.  When  Sadie  discovered  that  Mr.  Fuller  was 
there,  she  was  just  wild  with  mischief. 

"  He's  here,  Lou  ;   aren't  you  glad?  " 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?"  said  Lou,  demurely. 

"  He's  had  his  hair  cut ;  did  you  notice  ?  "  continued 
Miss  Greene. 

"  I've  no  objection,"  answered  Lou. 

"  His  eyes  do  look  lovely  to-night,"  said  Sadie. 

"  I  told  you  they  were  fine,"  responded  Lucy. 

Sadie,  with  much  mock  gravity,  persisted  that  Lou 
should  be  formally  introduced.  This  was  accomplished 
through  a  mutual  friend  who  had  met  Mr.  Fuller,  and 
now  brought  him  to  Lou  and  Sadie. 

"  Miss  Gardiner,  allow  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Fuller. 
Mr.  Fuller,  Miss  Gardiner  and  Miss  Greene." 

After  the  introduction,  Sadie  merrily  slipped  awav,  and 
left  James  and  Lou  together.  Neither  of  them  was 
exactly  at  ease.  James  had  hardly  spoken  to  a  young 
woman  except  some  of  his  old  friends  whose  youth  might 
now  be  questioned,  since  Ruth  died.  lie  was  constrained 
and  awkward.  Lucy,  on  her  part,  while  having  a  strange 
desire  to  get  better  acquainted  with  this  man,  felt  much 
embarrassed.  After  some  minutes,  however,  their  bash- 


New  Faces.  113 

fulness  and  timidity  passed  away  and  they  conversed 
easily  and  pleasantly,  and  the  call  to  refreshments  came 
all  too  quickly  for  them.  They  went  to  the  table  together, 
and  notwithstanding  sly  Miss  Greene,  who  occasionally 
caught  Lou's  eye,  and  made  her  blush,  they  greatly  en 
joyed  the  church  supper.  At  the  close  of  the  sociable, 
what  else  could  James  do  except  offer  to  see  the  lady 
safely  home,  which  offer  she,  with  some  hesitation, 
accepted. 

The  next  day  Lou  met  Sadie. 

"  I  warn  you,  Lou  Gardiner,  that  your  fate  has  come. 
I've  found  out  all  about  him,"  ran  on  the  merry  girl. 
"  He's  a  widower ;  his  wife  has  been  dead  over  twelve 
years.  He  has  a  boy,  born  when  his  wife  died.  Mrs.  Slo- 
cum  told  my  mother  all  about  it.  He  has  lived  a  lonely 
life  most  of  the  time  since ;  some  of  the  time  like  a  her 
mit,  keeping  bachelor's  hall.  Before  his  marriage,  he  was 
Boss  farmer  for  Mr.  Slocum's  cousin  in  Ashton,  and  they 
thought  everything  of  him  there.  It's  your  solemn  duty, 
Lou  Gardiner,  to  marry  that  man  and  make  him  happy 
again." 

"  Sadie  Greene,  you  are  the  sauciest  girl  I  ever  saw ;  I 
never  thought  you'd  plague  me  so." 

"  Precious  little  I'm  plaguing  you,  young  lady,"  came 
the  response.  "  I  know  it's  love  at  first  sight  on  your  part. 
Didn't  you  blush  that  day  we  met  him?  And  I  declare, 
Miss  Gardiner,  you've  been  blushing  most  of  the  time 
since.  It's  all  right,  though,"  ran  on  the  impulsive  girl, 
"  widowers  are  good  men,  and  they  say  he  was  awfully 
good  to  his  wife,  and  has  hardly  looked  at  a  single  woman 
since  till  he  met  you.  My,  who  would  have  thought  it 
though  of  Lou  Gardiner,  the  girl  that  sent  off  Carl  Brown 
'cause  he  wore  his  hair  so  long,  and  told  Ned  Jones,  a 
good  catch,  that  there  was  no  '  affinity  '  between  you ; 
yes,  '  affinity  '  between  you.  I  know  that's  the  word. 
Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction  sure  enough.  I'm  going 
tc  give  you  a  good  smack  for  fear  if  I  don't,  you'll  send 
the  police  after  me !  "  And  Sadie  kissed  Lucy  ostenta 
tiously. 


H4  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HOW    IT   ALL    ENDED. 

You  who  have  read  the  story  of  James  Fuller's  early 
l^fe  would  scarcely  believe  it,  and  yet  it  was  true.  I  af 
firm  as  a  positive  fact  that  James  Fuller  was  again  in 
love.  He  at  first  hesitated  to  admit  the  fact  to  himself. 
It  seemed  almost  like  sacrilege,  almost  like  being  false 
to  his  Ruth,  that  he  could  love  another  woman,  and  well 
enough  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  And  I  will  tell  you 
confidentially  that  the  new  love  was  different  from  the  old 
love.  Thirteen  years  had  passed  away  since  that  fatal 
night.  He  was  now  in  middle  life ;  the  extreme  fervor 
and  youthful  fancy  had  gone.  Lucy  Gardiner  was  a  very 
different  woman  from  Ruth,  and  he  did  not  love  her  in  the 
same  way,  yet  there  had  come  a  new  power  into  his  life 
since  his  acquaintance  with  her.  She  was  so  honest  and 
true,  so  faithful  to  her  sense  of  duty.  A  young  woman 
of  courage  and  Christian  faith.  There  was-something  of 
the  old  Puritan  element  in  her  make-up,  and  uncon 
sciously  there  had  gradually  come  up  in  his  soul,  since 
that  night  of  the  sociable,  thoughts  and  feelings  that  had 
lain  dormant  for  years.  He  knew  it  now.  He  and  Lucy 
had  been  together  considerably  and  many  happy  hours 
had  they  enjoyed.  She  seemed  very  necessary  to  his 
earthly  hapmness. 

Would  Lou  have  him?  He  hardly  knew.  She  cer 
tainly  had  encouraged  him,  and  one  night  he  determined 
to  risk  his  fate.  It  was  Wednesday  evening  and  they  were 
together  in  Lou's  home.  At  length,  James  hesitatingly 
told  his  story,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  be  his  wife. 
"  I  am  not  worthy  of  you,  Lucy,"  said  he,  "  but  I  love 
you."  Lucy  colored  and  asked  for  time  to  consider  the 
question. 


How  it  all  Ended.  115 

"  Certainly,"  replied  James.  One  week  later  he  should 
know  his  answer. 

And  what  of  Lou?  Was  this  man  her  ideal?  No, 
plainly  he  was  not.  He  was  seventeen  years  older;  had 
loved  another  woman ;  had  a  son  partly  dependent  upon 
him ;  was  uncultivated  in  many  ways ;  was  poor,  and  a 
life  of  hardship  and  toil  would  probably  be  her  portion. 
He  had  no  standing  in  the  community.  On  the  other  side, 
she  believed  he  was  good  and  honest.  He  had  suffered ; 
she  could  make  him  happy,  and  in  spite  of  all  attempts 
in  this  heart  questioning  to  deny  it,  she  loved  him. 
She  knew  it.  Not  like  some  girlish  fancy,  but  an  intel 
ligent  and,  she  believed,  steady,  abiding  love  which  came 
deep  from  her  soul.  But  she  was  proud  and  ambitious. 
She  cared  much  for  the  speech  of  people.  What  would 
they  say  if  she  married  this  man?  Though  without 
special  advantages  herself,  her  ambitious  nature  coveted 
them  for  herself,  and  hers.  She  would  be  glad  to  have 
a  fine  home,  and  wealthy  friends,  with  cultivated  com 
panions.  She  could  expect  none  of  these  with  James 
Fuller  for  a  husband.  There  was  Carl  Brown  and  also 
Ned  Jones,  both  of  them  yet  free,  either  of  whom  prob 
ably  would  be  glad  to  claim  her  as  a  bride,  and  both  of 
them  much  better  off  from  a  worldly  point  of  view  than 
James. 

"  But  it  isn't  possible  I  could  marry  either  of  them," 
said  Lou  to  herself.  "  I  don't  love  them ;  the  very  idea 
is  disagreeable."  There  was  no  such  feeling  of  repul 
sion  when  she  thought  of  James,  yet  her  pride  forbade  her 
to  yield  herself  to  a  poor  man,  without  worldly  position. 
But  a  woman's  pride  pnd  a  woman's  heart  are  not 
synonymous.  With  prayer  and  an  honest  purpose,  she 
wrestled  with  her  own  heart  in  every  way,  and  at  last 
decided  upon  her  answer. 

On  the  appointed  evening  James  greeted  her  fervently. 
The  week  had  been  a  long  one  to  him.  Would  it  be  pos 
sible  that  a  cup  of  joy,  again  so  near,  should  be  dashed 
aside? 

"  I  have  come  for  my  answer,  Lucy !  "  They  sat  side 
by  side  on  the  sofa.  Lucy  with  clear  voice  said,  "  James, 
after  examining  my  heart,  I  believe  that  I  love  you ;  I 


u6  Love  and  Liberty. 

think  you  are  good  and  true,  but  I  have  a  proud  nature 
and  love  fine  things  and  congenial  companions ;  I  would 
like  a  good  home  with  comforts  and  luxuries ;  we  could 
not  probably  have  them.  \Yhat  shall  I  say  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  my  best  for  you.  Do  you  love  me  enough, 
Lucy,  to  take  me  for  what  I  am?  " 

There  was  a  pathetic  look  in  those  deep  blue  eyes,  and 
a  tremor  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  James,  I  believe  I  do !  "  and  that  moment  Lucy 
gave  not  a  thought  to  what  might  have  been  hers.  They 
sealed  the  contract  with  a  kiss,  the  first  that  James  had 
placed  on  a  woman's  lips  since  Ruth  went  to  heaven. 
And  there  in  that  humble  home,  with  arms  about  each 
other  and  love  in  their  hearts,  James  and  Lucy  made  their 
plans  for  the  future.  It  was  not  like  that  other  love  to 
James,  and  yet  it  was  true  love. 


The  Wedding.  117 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   WEDDING. 

MERRILY  rang  the  wedding  bells,  for  Lucy  had  many 
friends,  and  would  be  married  in  the  church.  It  goes 
without  saying  that  Sadie  Greene  was  bridesmaid.  O, 
that  girl ;  how  she  did  torment  Lou ! 

"  I  told  you  so/'  she  said ;  "  I  knew  it ;  those  blue  eyes 
were  what  did  the  business  ;  he  bewitched  you." 

"  All  right,  Sadie,  help  me  fix  this  dress." 

:'  You  meek  as  Moses  girl,  why  don't  you  get  mad  with 
me?" 

"  Tisn't  worth  while,"  said  Lou.  "  You  can't  plague 
me  now,  my  dear.  Hurry,  Sadie  ;  is  that  glove  all  right  ? 
James  will  be  here  soon  with  the  parson." 

'  There  he  is  now,"  returned  Sadie,  as  there  came  a 
rap  at  the  door. 

In  they  came,  James  straighter  than  usual,  arrayed  in 
a  becoming  new  suit,  accompanied  by  Lucy's  minister 
and  Charles  Slocum,  one  of  James'  friends  in  Seaview 
who  was  best  man.  Instructions  about  the  ceremony 
followed. 

At  the  church  were  Tom  Smith  and  his  wife  from 
Wilksville,  and  also  Samuel  who  had  come  from  Grove- 
land  to  see  his  father's  new  bride. 

"  Samuel  is  handsome  as  a  picture,"  said  Sadie,  and  he 
-was  a  fine-looking  lad,  strong  and  muscular  as  well. 

The  church  had  been  beautifully  decorated  by  Lucy's 
friends  and  was  crowded  with  people,  many  standing 
about  the  door.  The  bridal  party  entered  the  church, 
passed  up  the  aisles  and  stood  before  the  minister. 

"  James,  wilt  thou  have  this  woman  to  be  thy  wedded 
wife ;  wilt  thou  love  her,  comfort  her,  honor  and  keep 
her,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  and  forsaking  all  other, 
keep  thee  only  unto  her  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live  ?  " 


n8  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I  will." 

"  Lucy,  wilt  thou  have  this  man  to  be  thy  wedded  hus 
band  ;  wilt  thou  love,  honor  and  keep  him,  in  sickness 
and  in  health  ;  and  forsaking  all  other,  keep  thee  only 
unto  him  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live  ?  " 

"  I  will." 

Then  followed  the  wedding  ring  and  an  earnest  prayer 
from  the  pastor,  for  Lucy  Gardiner  was  one  of  his  best 
members,  and  he  was  greatly  interested  in  her  welfare. 

After  this  the  home  reception,  the  wedding  breakfast, 
the  rice,  the  merriment,  the  hack,  the  cars,  the  bridal 
trip,  and  the  Seaview  home. 

When  James  and  Lucy  were  settled  in  their  cozy  home, 
they  were  happy.  To  James,  it  seemed  too  good  to  be 
true,  that  once  more,  after  all  his  sufferings,  he  had  a 
wife  and  home.  He  seemed  some  man  not  known  to  him 
self.  Was  this  the  same  James  Fuller  that  for  ten  years 
had  lived  a  hermit  life  and  thought  himself  cursed  of 
God  and  forsaken?  Yes,  it  was  he,  and  rejoicing  over  his 
bride. 


What  They  Said  About  It.  119 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

WHAT  THEY   SAID   ABOUT   IT. 

James  to  Samuel  : 

SEA  VIEW,  Jan.  29,  1855. 
MY  DEAR  Sox  : — 

I  was  glad  to  receive  thy  letter  and  to  know  that  thou 
art  well.  I  write  thee  of  a  very  joyous  event  in  our  home. 
Last  evening  there  arrived  here  a  very  fine  little  boy,  and 
now  thou  hast  a  brother.  His  name  is  John  Gardiner,  as 
this  is  his  mother's  choice.  I  am  sure  thou  wilt  be  pleased 
with  the  news,  and  thy  father  is  so  happy,  he  must  needs 
write  thee  at  once.  Thou  knowest  something  of  the  sor 
row  which  has  come  into  thy  father's  life,  and  wilt  surely 
rejoice  in  his  happiness.  The  mother  is  doing  well,  and 
we  hope  in  the  spring  to  have  thee  visit  us  and  get 
acquainted  with  little  John. 

We  are  having  a  very  cold  winter  in  this  section.  I 
trust  thou  art  comfortable  and  happy  on  the  old  farm. 

We  are  glad  that  Uncle  William  has  had  a  good  year, 
and  made  the  farm  so  much  of  a  success.  I  like  my  new 
work  and  am  enabled  to  provide  a  comfortable  home  for 
my  loved  ones. 

Dost  thou  like  the  school  teacher  any  better  this  year? 
I  am  desirous  for  thee  to  have  a  good  education,  but  it  is 
not  in  my  power  to  send  thee  away  to  school,  so  make  the 
most  of  all  the  opportunities  which  come  and  God  will 
surely  cause  thee  to  be  a  good  and  useful  man. 

Bear  kind  greetings  to  thy  grandparents ;  also  thy 
Uncle's  family.  I  suppose  that  the  twins  are  growing  to 
be  large  children  and  that  little  Evelyn  is  a  darling  girl. 

Write  to  me  soon.     Farewell, 

Ever  thy  loving  father, 

JAMES  FULLER. 


I2O  Love  and  Liberty. 

Lucy  to  Sadie  Greene : 

SEAVIENV,  Feb.  25,  1855. 
MY  OWN  DEAR   SADIE: — 

I  suppose  you  have  heard  all  about  the  great  joy  that 
has  come  to  our  home.  I  have  the  finest  baby  that  was 
ever  born,  and  he  is  worth  all  the  suffering  and  the  pain. 
He  has  his  father's  blue  eyes,  and  the  softest  cheeks  and 
is  perfectly  lovely.  We  have  named  him  John  Gardiner, 
for  father ;  I  felt  this  was  my  right,  and  James  was  very 
willing. 

I  have  a  good  husband,  as  kind  as  can  be,  and  we  have 
much  to  thank  God  for. 

To-day  I  am  down  in  the  sitting-room,  and  writing 
my  first  letters  for  a  long  while.  Mother  has  been  with 
us  for  a  month,  and  Grace  has  been  housekeeper  at  home. 

What  made  you  go  to  Boston  ?  I  have  missed  you  ever 
so  much.  Will  you  stay  much  longer?  I  want  to  see 
you  more  than  I  can  tell.  Have  had  no  one  to  plague  me 
since  you  went  away.  You  are  the  trouble  of  my  life,  but 
I  am  so  lonesome  when  you  are  gone,  I  hardly  know 
what  to  do. 

Grace  says  that  Ned  Jones  has  been  terribly  discon 
solate  ever  since  you  left.  Ned  is  a  good  fellow  in  his 
way,  but  so  devoted  to  his  money  getting.  I  wouldn't 
have  him,  Sadie.  Follow  my  advice  and  let  him  find 
another  sweetheart.  Of  course  you'll  mind  me,  for  if 
I'm  not  old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  I'm  steady  enough 
as  you  always  said. 

There !  Little  John  is  crying.  I  meant  to  say  that  I 
hope  he'll  be  a  minister,  and  he  must  go  to  college. 

Come  home  immediately  on  receipt  of  this.     Good-by. 
Your  own  loving 

Lou. 

P.  S.   John  weighed  eight  pounds. 

L.  G.  F. 

Samuel  to  James : 

GROVELAND,  March  i,  1855. 
MY  DEAR  FATHER  : — 

Thy  letter  with  all  the  good  news  duly  received. 
Grandfather  and  grandmother,  and  all  the  rest  send  con- 


What  They  Said  About  It.  121 

gratulations,  and  I  can  hardly  wait  for  warmer  weather 
to  come,  when  I  may  visit  my  little  brother.  Doesn't  it 
seem  odd  when  we  think  about  it? 

Joe  Slocum  and  wife  were  over  in  their  sleigh  last  First 
Day  and  both  wished  me  to  write  thee  how  glad  they  are 
for  thy  happiness.  If  ever  any  one  deserved  to  be  happy, 
they  said  it  was  thyself. 

School  has  gone  very  well,  though  the  teachers  they 
get  don't  know  very  much  about  some  things.  I  get 
more  out  of  my  reading  than  from  them. 

The  twins  are  well  and  so  is  Evelyn.  She  is  over  a 
year  old  now  and  cunning  as  can  be. 

Tom  Smith's  boy,  thy  namesake,  James,  spent  a  week 
with  me  this  winter.  He's  a  jolly  chap,  but  doesn't  know 
much  about  books,  but  we  had  a  good  time  just  the 
same. 

Uncle  William  is  a  rusher  on  the  farm,  and  keeps  me 
at  work  most  of  the  time.  I  don't  like  to  work  very  well ; 
would  rather  read. 

We  all  send  much  love.     Farewell.     Thy  son, 

SAMUEL  FULLER. 


Sadie  Green  to  Lucy : 

BOSTON,  Feb.  28,   1855. 
MY  DEAR  Lou  : — 

Your  lovely  letter  at  hand.  I  am  delighted  at  the  news, 
and  that  you  are  so  well.  Kiss  John  for  me ;  I'm  glad 
he  has  his  father's  blue  eyes,  but  I'll  warrant  he's  a  tow- 
head.  You  didn't  say  a  word  about  his  hair,  and  I  don't 
believe  he  has  any.  I'm  almost  sure  he's  one  of  the  cry 
ing  babies,  too.  If  he  wasn't,  you  would  have  been 
boasting  that  he  didn't  cry.  Want  him  to  be  a  min 
ister  and  go  to  college !  That's  my  own  proud  ambitious 
Lou,  sure  enough.  Not  many  people  go  to  college  from 
Seaview,  my  dear,  and  where's  the  money  coming  from? 

I'm  having  a  delightful  time  here ;  two  months  since  I 
came,  but  shall  return  in  March.  Cousin  Helen  has 
taken  me  to  all  the  sights.  I've  been  up  in  Bunker  Hill 
Monument,  and  have  been  sleighing  on  the  Brighton 
road ;  have  visited  the  Art  Museum  and  Common  and 


122  Love  and  Liberty. 

Park  Gardens.     And  wandered  all  over  the  State  House 
with  its  gilded  dome,  and  been  through  the  markets. 

O,  the  fine  churches  we've  seen,  and  the  charming 
music  we've  heard.  Such  wonderful  stores  as  they  have- 
here!  Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  them?  Now  I've  made 
you  sorry  you  married  James  Fuller,  and  I'm  glad  of  it ; 
you  were  just  au'fnl  about  Xed  Jones.  Ned  Jones  de 
voted  to  money  getting!  Indeed  Mrs.  Fuller,  who  was  it 
that  was  going  to  marry  a  rich  man,  and  then  married  a 
poor  one  instead?  and — well,  let  it  all  go,  I'll  pay  you  up 
when  I  get  home,  which  will  be  soon  now.  I  want  to  see 
your  baby  just  the  same,  and  if  you  hadn't  written  me 
that  about  Ned,  would  have  brought  him  a  present,  so 
there,  now. 

Your  own   loving 

SADIE  GREENE. 

P.  S. — There  is  a  fine  young  man  visiting  here  in  Bos 
ton  who  has  been  to  see  me  several  times. 

SADIE. 

To  tell  you  the  truth  about  the  matter,  John  Gardiner 
was  a  crying  baby,  and  was  also  white-headed  ;  and  Sadie 
Greene  with  her  usual  brilliancy  had  guessed  the  truth, 
though  she  didn't  know  until  she  came  from  P>oston, 
bringing  him  the  finest  present  a  baby  ever  had.  If  you 
wish  to  know  what  it  was,  you  must  ask  Lucy. 


The  Coming  of  the  Lord.  123 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  LORD. 

THERE  was  a  mulatto  in  Glentown,  whom  the  people 
familiarly  called  "  Black  Joe."  He  had  lived  there  many 
years  and  was  a  runaway  slave.  The  best  people  encour 
aged  him  and  his  family,  but  Peter  Nichols  appeared  to 
actually  hate  him  because  he  was  not  a  member  of  the 
Caucasian  race,  and  as  Friend  Ouinn  had  intimated  on 
one  occasion,  took  peculiar  pleasure  in  tormenting  him. 
Joe  had  first  escaped  into  Wilkesbarre,  Pa.,  and  became  a 
waiter  in  a  hotel.  One  day  a  deputy  marshal  and  four 
Virginians  pounced  on  him  from  benind,  struck  mm 
down  with  a  club  and  partially  shackled  him.  He  fought 
them  desperately  with  a  handcuff  on  his  right  wrist,  and, 
covered  with  blood,  rushed  from  them  into  the  river, 
saying,  "  I'll  be  drowned  rather  than  oe  taken  alive." 
They  pursued,  fired  upon  him  several  times  as  he  stood 
in  the  water  up  to  his  neck,  until  a  ball  entered  his 
head,  covering  his  face  with  blood.  The  outrage  dis 
gusted  the  bystanders. 

"  Let  the  nigger  alone,"  shouted  one ;  "  haven't  you 
any  humanity  in  you  ?  " 

Fearing  the  anger  of  the  crowd,  the  slave-hunters 
retired. 

Joe  came  out  of  the  water,  apparently  dying,  and  lay 
down  on  the  shore. 

"  Dead  niggers  are  not  worth  taking  south,"  said  the 
marshal. 

A  negro  named  Rex  came  to  him. 

"  Torn  off  your  clothes,  haven't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  faintly  answered  Joe. 

"  Put  on  these  pants,"  said  Rex. 

He  raised  Joe  up,  helped  him  on  with  his  trousers,  and 
on  to  his  feet. 

The  slave-hunters  returned  and  presented  pistols. 


124  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Run  to  the  river,"  cried  Rex.  Joe  went  into  the 
river,  where  he  remained  for  an  hour  with  only  his  head 
above  the  water.  Some  of  his  assailants  spoke  of  lollow- 
ing  him  in  the  river. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Joe,  "  if  I  can  only  carry  you  down 
with  me,  I  die  content." 

The  spectators,  however,  were  so  excited  that  the  men 
did  not  dare  fire  again,  and  they  were  afraid  to  get 
within  Joe's  powerful  grasp. 

"  Arrest  the  hunters  as  rioters !  "  called  one. 

This  was  about  to  be  done  when  the  marshal  and  his 
gang  disappeared.  Joe  waded  up  the  stream  and  went 
ashore.  Rex  followed  him  and  found  him  in  an  insensible 
condition,  cared  for  him,  dressed  his  wounds,  and  after  a 
little,  Joe  started  further  north  to  get  away  from  his 
heartless  assailants,  at  length  reaching  Glentown. 

Joe's  sister  with  her  husband  and  three  children  also 
attempted  to  escape.  They  were  missed  and  their 
master  followed  rapidly  on  horseback,  traced  them  to  the 
house  of  Rex,  and  procured  warrants  for  their  arrest. 

"  Surrender !  "  cried  the  marshal. 

"  We'll  never  surrender,"  returned  Garner  and  his 
wife. 

"  Break  down  the  doors,"  cried  the  officers. 

"  Break  'em  down  if  you  like,"  said  Rex,  "  we'll  fight 
you." 

The  officers  broke  open  the  doors.  Rex,  Garner  and 
his  wife  Margaret,  assailed  them  with  some  other 
negroes,  fighting  desperately  with  clubs  and  pistols.  The 
negroes,  however,  were  disarmed  before  they  could 
reload.  As  the  officers  entered,  they  saw  a  horrible  sight. 
In  the  corner  of  the  room  lay  a  child,  nearly  white, 
bleeding  to  death,  her  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear.  They 
heard  a  scream  in  the  next  room,  and  entered.  There 
stood  Margaret  holding  a  knife,  dripping  with  gore,  over 
the  heads  of  two  children,  who  were  crouched  upon  the 
floor,  uttering  cries  of  pain  and  terror.  They  were  cut 
across  the  head  and  shoulders,  bleeding  freely.  "  Mar 
garet  Garner,  what  have  you  done?"  cried  her  master. 

"  Put  my  girl  where  you  won't  get  her.  Curses  on  you 
and  your  wife  who  have  abused  -and  whipped  and 


The  Coming  of  the  Lord.  125 

pounded  us,  sir;  I  meant  to  kill  the  others  rather  than 
have  you  get  them  back  into  slavery ;  they  had  better  die, 
far  better  die,"  she  repeated,  V  than  be  under  your  cursed 
rule.  God  smite  you  for  your  black-hearted  cruelty," 
cried  the  crazed  woman,  beating  her  head  with  her  hands. 
They  took  her  and  her  husband,  who  had  both  borne 
excellent  characters,  off  to  the  marshal's  office.  Margaret 
was  an  intelligent  woman,  only  twenty-three  years  of  age, 
but  she  seemed  stupid  and  dumb  from  her  terrible  agony. 
'  That's  a  fine  little  boy  of  yours,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"  You  should  have  seen  my  little  girl  that — that — that 
died ;  that  was  a  bird  of  rare  beauty,"  she  cried  in  her 
sorrow  and  wrath. 

"  I  hate  you,  master ;  I  hate  your  wife.  She  whipped 
me  till  the  blood  run,  curse  her." 

Margaret  told  the  authorities  of  the  cruel  treatment 
she  had  received,  and  said  she  had  resolved  to  kill  all  her 
children  and  then  kill  herself,  in  order  to  escape  from  the 
horrors  of  slavery.  An  attempt  was  made  to  hold  her  for 
murder,  but  the  judge  decided  that  she  was  in  the  custody 
of  the  United  States  marshal,  so  they  were  all  returned 
to  slavery.  Justin  Lyons,  the  master,  soon  afterward  sold 
them  further  south,  and  Joe  never  saw  his  sister  again. 

"  Margaret !  Margaret !  "  cried  Joe,  when  the  news 
reached  him  that  they  were  carried  back  into  slavery, 
"  God  help  you  in  your  troubles !  " 

After  Joe  came  to  Glentown,  he  married  a  respectable 
free  colored  woman,  and  they  had,  at  the  time  men 
tioned,  two  small  children.  They  were  poor,  and  yet  did 
not  actually  suffer  for  the  necessaries  of  life.  Why 
Peter  Nichols  hated  Joe  so  bitterly,  was  not  explained, 
except  his  belief  that  "  niggers  "  were  only  fit  for  slaves. 
All  the  people  believed  Joe  to  be  an  honest  and  indus 
trious  man. 

One  day  Joe  disappeared,  nobody  knew  where.  His 
wife  was  in  great  sorrow,  but  no  explanation  was  dis 
covered  why  he  should  leave  his  wife  and  children  whom 
he  had  always  appeared  to  greatly  love.  It  was  a  great 
mystery,  but  some  months  later  the  mystery  was  partly 
solved,  when  Joe's  decaying  body,  with  marks  of  bruises 
upon  it,  was  thrown  up  on  the  banks  of  the  river. 


126  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Who  committed  the  foul  murder?  "  was  the  question 
on  many  lips.  Willard  Aldrich  tried,  with  Frank  Noble, 
to  discover  if  he  had  quarreled  with  any  one,  but  they 
could  get  no  evidence  that  such  was  the  case.  Their 
suspicions  were  directed  toward  Peter  Nichols,  but  he 
was  behaving  particularly  well  of  late,  and  they  had  no 
evidence  against  him ;  and  as  Joe  was  only  a  negro,  the 
matter  quieted  down. 

"  Margaret,"  said  Willard  one  day,  "  Wrilliam  Miller 
is  to  hold  one  of  his  camp-meetings  in  our  grove  next 
week  ;  the  town  is  greatly  excited  about  it.  Miller  says 
the  Lord  is  coming  back  to  earth  in  1843." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  attend  and  hear  him,"  answered 
Margaret,  "  though  I  do  not  believe  his  doctrines." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  to  camp-meeting?  "  asked  a  little 
boy  some  six  years  of  age. 

"  Yes,  my  lad,  we've  been  to  the  Methodist  camp- 
meetings,  but  this  is  another  kind,"  replied  Willard, 
kindly. 

"  Papa  says  the  world  is  going  to  end,  and  Jesus  is 
coming,"  said  the  boy. 

"  So  He  will  come  some  time,"  answered  Willard. 

"  But  right  away,  and  we've  got  to  meet  Him." 

"  \Ve're  going  to  hear  the  great  preacher  tell  all 
about  it  next  week,  Chester ;  run  home  now  after  you 
kiss  little  Rachel,  mama  will  be  looking  for  you." 

Chester  Nye  kissed  the  handsome  little  Rachel  and  went 
home. 

"  Plenry  Nye  has  accepted  the  Millerite  news,  Marga 
ret,  and  even  Chester  knows  all  about  it." 

"  There  have  been  some  pamphlets  distributed  here," 
said  Margaret.  "  I  read  some  of  them ;  they  thought  at 
first  the  Lord  would  come  at  Easter  or  just  before:  as 
the  time  went  by  and  they  found  themselves  mistaken, 
they  have  changed  the  day  to  the  twenty-second  of  Oc 
tober.  Mr.  Miller  says  some  time  this  year,  he  is  quite 
sure  that  Christ  will  come,  certainly  not  later  than  March 

1844." 

"  It  must  be  a  delusion,"  returned  Willard,  "  but  these 
people  are  probably  honest  about  the  matter." 

Willard  and  Margaret  were  as  interested  as  ever  in  the 


The  Coming  of  the  Lord.  127 

cause  of  emancipation.  Frank  Noble,  in  spite  of  his 
slavery-sympathizing  wife,  was  almost  ready  to  join 
them,  they  thought ;  and  as  he  was  a  man  of  influence  and 
substance,  they  counted  much  on  his  aid.  Last  winter 
he  was  in  the  Legislature,  and  spoke  brave  words  for  the 
Abolitionists.  He  was  coming  over  that  evening. 

After  supper  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  "  Come  in," 
said  Willard. 

"  O,  it's  you,  Henry ;  walk  right  in ;  glad  to  see 
you." 

'  The  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh,"  said  Henry. 

"  We've  heard  that  you  have  changed  your  views,  and 
are  expecting  Christ's  return,"  answered  Willard. 

"  Yes,  thank  the  Lord,  it's  near  by." 

"Do  you  feel  absolutely  certain  about  the  matter?" 
questioned  Willard.  "  I  have  not  studied  the  matter  as 
Air.  Miller  has,  but  it  appears  to  me  that  there  can  be  no 
absolute  date  fixed  by  us." 

"  We  are  in  the  toes  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  image," 
replied  Nye. 

"  Well,  may  be,  may  be,  I  never  had  thought  partic 
ularly  on  the  subject." 

Another  knock  at  the  door.     It  was  Mr.  Noble. 

"  Walk  in,  Mr.  Noble ;  as  always,  glad  to  see  you," 
said  Margaret. 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Aldrich,"  said  Noble. 

"  Prepared  to  meet  thy  God,  Mr.  Noble  ?  Jesus  is  com 
ing  again,"  exclaimed  Henry. 

"  Well,  Henry,  glad  to  see  you ;  glad  you're  interested 
in  religious  matters.  Then  you  think  Christ  is  near  at 
hand  ?  " 

"  At  the  very  doors,"  replied  Nye. 

"  According  to  that,  Aldrich,  this  emancipation  busi 
ness  will  be  settled  without  our  aid,"  and  Noble  smiled. 

'  There  is  great  excitement  over  this  question,"  replied 
Aldrich.  "  I  hear  Miller  is  a  good  man,  though  un 
educated,  and  I  fail  to  see  how  he  can  be  so  sure  about 
those  Hebrew  prophecies  when  he  can't  read  the  original 
language,  as  I  understand,  even  the  change  of  a  vowel 
point  makes  great  changes  in  the  meaning." 

"  Well,  good  night,  Henry,  come  again,"  said  Margaret 


128  Love  and  Liberty. 

as  Nye  left.  "If  we  don't  accept  your  doctrines,  we're 
always  glad  to  see  you. 

"  Good  night,"  returned  Henry.  "  Get  ready  for  the 
coming'  of  the  King;  before  two  months  are  gone  Christ 
will  appear,"  and  he  was  gone. 

Noble  said :  "  I  understand  that  your  old  friend  Peter 
Nichols  is  greatly  interested  in  the  matter,  Margaret. 
He's  been  to  these  Millerite  meetings,  exhorting  the 
people  and  praying  mightily." 

"If  this  theory  will  scare  him  into  becoming  good,  it 
will  be  worth  something,"  said  Margaret. 

"How's  the  Liberty  party  come  on,  Willard?" 

"  Slowly,"  returned  Willard,  "  but  the  principles  it 
represents  are  bound  to  succeed." 

"  I  fear  it  will  never  amount  to  anything.  When  the 
matter  started  in  '39,  it  was  simply  one  of  Thurlow 
Weed's  schemes  to  prevent  the  nomination  of  Clay  by 
the  \Vhigs,"  said  Noble.  "  When  James  G.  Birney  was 
nominated  as  your  candidate  it  gave  the  nomination  to 
Harrison,  and  see  where  you  are  now.  It's  the  cat  in  the 
fable,  pulling  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire  for  somebody 
else.  You  thought  to  revenge  a  grudge  to  Van  Buren 
and  defeat  Clay,  and  now  we've  got  pro-slavery  Tyler 
for  President.  Wouldn't  you  rather  have  had  Clay?" 

"  Personally,  I  would,"  replied  Willard,  "  but  the  polit 
ical  part  of  this  matter  must  have  a  beginning,  and  God, 
I  feel  sure,  will  bring  this  thing  out  right,  notwithstand 
ing  apparent  defeat  at  the  beginning.  Birney  will  be  our 
candidate  again  next  year,  if  the  Millerites  are  mistaken 
about  the  Lord's  coming." 

"  Well,  agitation  is  a  good  thing  for  a  good  cause," 
returned  Noble. 

The  great  camp-meeting  of  the  Millerites  came  as 
planned.  Glentown,  and  all  the  surrounding  country 
were  greatly  stirred.  People  came  on  foot  and  with 
teams,  long  distances  to  hear  the  new  evangel.  Thou 
sands  of  persons  gathered  and  pitched  their  white  tents  in 
the  grove.  There  were  the  rude  pulpit  and  seats  of 
rough  boards.  The  meeting  began  in  the  evening.  Mrs. 
Aldrich  secured  a  young  woman  to  care  for  little  Rachel, 
and  went  with  her  husband  to  the  first  service.  It  was  a 


The  Coming  of  the  Lord.  129 

clear,  moonlight  evening.  As  they  went  towards  the 
camp,  the  music  of  a  hymn  sung  by  a  thousand  voices  was 
wafted  to  their  ears. 

"Lo,  He  comes  with  clouds  descending, 

Once  for  favored  sinners  slain, 
Thousand,  thousand  saints  attending, 

Swell  the  triumph  of  his  train. 
Halleluiah,  Halleluiah,  God  appears  on  earth  to  reign." 

It  was  one  of  Charles  Wesley's  advent  hymns,  sung 
with  great  power  under  those  peculiar  circumstances, 
when  the  singers  really  expected  the  Lord  to  come. 
Willard  and  Margaret,  with  some  difficulty,  obtained 
fairly  good  seats.  As  the  hymn  was  finished,  there  rose  in 
the  pulpit  a  man  about  sixty  years  of  age,  of  medium 
stature,  rather  corpulent,  with  brown  hair,  and  a  peculiar 
expression  in  his  blue  eyes,  of  shrewdness  and  love.  He 
was  distinct  in  utterance,  spoke  some  quaint  words  and 
had  easy,  expressive  gestures.  This  man  was  William 
Miller.  Suspended  from  the  pulpit  were  his  charts,  one 
representing  the  image  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  dream ;  the 
other  pictured  the  Apocalyptic  vision,  beasts,  dragons, 
the  scarlet  woman,  oriental  figures  and  mystic  symbols. 
Miller  took  his  text  from  Revelation,  I.  7:  "Behold  he 
cometh  with  clouds,  etc."  He  drew  a  vivid  picture  of  the 
sin-cursed  earth,  mentioned  the  prophecies  relating  to 
Christ's  coming,  and  declared  that  Jesus  would  return 
that  very  year  to  raise  the  dead,  and  set  up  His  new  king 
dom  on  the  purified  earth.  He  closed  with  the  following 
words:  "The  day  of  judgment  is  close  at  hand.  If 
Christ  does  not  come  by  October  22,  I  shall  feel  twice 
the  disappointment  I  did  in  the  spring.  Gird  up  the 
loins  of  your  mind,  watch  and  be  sober;  pray  unto  God 
to  make  you  ready  for  the  day  of  Christ's  appearing. 
Get  ready  for  the  King.  The  trumpet  will  sound,  the 
archanp-el  will  descend.  It  will  be  an  awful  time  for  the 
sinner.  Jesus  will  come  as  He  went  away,  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven.  Every  eye  shall  see  Him.  Those  who  nailed 
Him  to  the  cross,  they  who  pierced  Him.  The  wicked 
will  call  for  the  rocks  and  the  mountains  to  fall  on  them, 
and  hide  them  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb,  for  the  great 


130  Love  and  Liberty. 

day  of  his  wrath  is  coming,  and  who  shall  he  ahle  to 
stand  ?.  The  unsaved  sinner  will  shrink  in  terror  from 
Christ's  glorious  presence  and  call  for  mercy,  but  the 
call  will  come  too  late.  There  will  be  fearful  wailing, 
lost  men  shrieking  out  from  certain  doom  ! 

"  Behold  He  conieth!  the  Judge  is  at  the  door.  I  call 
yon  to  repentance  to-night!  Christ  is  coining!  Get 
ready  before  the  day  is  here!" 

As  Miller  concluded,  Peter  Nichols  set  up  a  loud 
wail,  reaching  throughout  the  camp,  "  O,  Lord,  I  am 
awful  sorry  for  my  sins.  I  did  it,  Lord,  I  own  it.  O, 
Lord,  forgive :  O  Jesus,  have  mercy.  Black  Joe  looked 
at  me  so  pitiful  like,  but  I  struck  him ;  I  was  awful 
mad;  I  didn't  mean  to  kill  him,  but  he  defied  me.  I'll 
tell  all  about  it,  God  in  Heaven.  Holy  Jesus,  have  mercy 
on  poor  Peter,  I'm  awful  sorry.  He  said  he  didn't  steal 
them  hens,  but  I  thought  he  did.  It  was  a  dark  night. 
I  met  him  on  that  back  street  alone.  He  fell  when 
I  struck  him.  I  saw  him  quiver  in  spite  of  the  dark. 
1  I'm  innocent,  Peter,'  he  cried,  but  I  raised  the  club 
again  and  again,  and  threw  him  into  the  river.  O 
Christ,  have  mercy,  O  God,  forgive;  I'm  in  hell  now; 
I  feel  the  demons ;  I  hear  the  devils  shriek.  Take  me, 
do  anything  with  me,  /'';;;  lost!  lost!  lost!" 

An  officer  from  Glentown  laid  his  hand  on  Peter  and 
marched  him  out  of  the  meeting. 

The  mystery  of  Black  Joe's  death  was  now  solved.  The 
call  of  Miller  to  repentance,  the  picture  of  wailing  sin 
ners,  the  certainty  in  his  own  mind  that  Christ  was  close 
at  hand,  drew  from  him  the  confession.  The  groans  and 
shouts  and  halleluiahs  resounded  night  after  night 
throughout  the  camp,  and  hundreds  of  persons  embraced 
the  new  faith,  but  onlv  to  be  disappointed. 

Peter  Nichols  was  duly  tried,  convicted  and  executed, 
and  Glentown  moved  on  in  the  even  tenor  of  its  way. 


Frederick  Douglass.  131 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

FREDERICK   DOUGLASS. 

"  ALDRICH,  I  want  you  to  go  to  Boston  with  me  to 
morrow  ;  Fred  Douglas,  the  colored  orator,  is  to  speak  in 
Faneuil  Hall ;  you've  never  heard  him,  and  we'll  go  to 
gether,  no  expense  to  you,  either.  We'll  go  to  the  hotel 
for  the  night  after  the  lecture  is  over." 

The  speaker  was  Representative  Noble  of  Glentown. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  can  leave  Margaret  and  the 
children,"  said  Willard. 

"  That's  aii  right,"  spoke  up  Margaret,  "  we'll  get 
along  nicely."  So  it  was  settled.  It  was  not  often  that 
Willard  went  away  from  home.  Margaret  and  the 
children  were  the  magnets  which  attracted  him  to  his 
own  fireside. 

Willard  Aldrich  was  prospering.  Work  was  plentiful. 
He  took  contracts  now  and  employed  at  times  several 
men.  Most  of  his  city  experience  had  been  in  Worcester 
and  Providence. 

Noble  and  he  as  usual  employed  the  time  on  the 
journey  discussing  political  matters  and  the  slavery 
question. 

"  Slavery  is  older  than  civilization,  older  than  history," 
began  Noble. 

"  That  doesn't  make  it  right,"  replied  Aldrich. 

"No,  not  right,  but  how  shall  we  get  rid  of  it?" 

"  I'm  no  Greek  scholar,"  responded  Aldrich,  "  but  was 
reading  Pope's  translation  of  Homer  the  other  day, 
where  he  says, 

"  '  Jove  fixed  it  certain  that  whatever  day, 

Man  makes  a  slave,  takes  half  his  worth  away.' 

"  That  means  half  the  worth  of  the  Master,"  con 
tinued  Willard.  "  The  man  who  holds  another  as  his 


132  Love  and  Liberty. 

slave  loses  the  brightest  part  of  his  God-like  nature, 
degrades  and  lowers  his  own  being." 

"  I  declare,  \Yillard,  who'd  have  thought  you  were 
fooling  around  old  Homer.  I  used  to  read  him  myself 
and  in  the  Greek,  too.  I  don't  remember  that  passage, 
though." 

"  It's  there,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  came  across  another 
thing;  that's  Washington's  letter  to  Henry  Lawrence  in 
1782,  in  which  he  says:  '  That  spirit  of  freedom  which, 
at  the  commencement  of  the  Revolutionary  war  would 
have  sacrificed  everything  to  its  object  has  subsided,  and 
every  selfish  passion  has  taken  its  place.'  He  says,  '  It 
is  not  the  public  but  private  interest  which  influences 
the  generality  of  mankind,  and  the  Americans  can  no 
longer  boast  of  an  exception.'  " 

"  Good  for  you,  Aldrich ;  you  are  a  student  of  history, 
and  no  mistake,"  exclaimed  Xoble. 

"  Selfishness  and  private  interest  are  at  the  bottom  of 
the  slavery  question,"  returned  Aldrich. 

"  Christopher  Columbus  sold  the  aborigines  as  slaves 
after  he  took  them  to  Spain,"  said  Xoble. 

"  Yes,  and  stained  his  great  name  forever,"  cried  Wil- 
lard.  "  Think  how  this  matter  has  been  going  on.  In 
1563,  the  English  began  to  import  negroes  into  the  West 
Indies.  In  1620,  the  very  year  the  Pilgrims  landed  at 
Plymouth  Rock,  slaves  were  sold  from  a  Dutch  vessel 
at  Jamestown,  Va." 

"  So  I've  heard,"  replied  Xoble,  "  and  there's  another 
interesting  matter,  which  you  may  not  have  noticed. 
That's  a  passage  in  the  original  draft  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  indicting  George  III.  for  slavery  with 
everything  else  he  had  done.  Jefferson  says  he  struck  it 
out  in  complaisance  to  South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  which 
states  had  never  attempted  to  restrain  the  importation 
of  slaves,  and  wished  to  continue  it ;  he  says  also  that 
the  Northern  brethren  felt  a  little  tender  under  the  cen 
sure,  not  so  much  because  of  the  few  slaves  that  they 
possessed,  but  because  they  had  been  carriers  of  them  to 
others.  Here  is  the  passage  I  copied  the  other  day,  for 
your  benefit;"  and  Xoble  took  out  his  memoranda  and 
read: 


Frederick  Douglass.  133 

"  Determined  to  keep  open  a  market  where  men  should 
be  bought  and  sold,  he  has  prostituted  his  negative  for 
suppressing  every  legislative  attempt  to  prohibit,  or  to 
restrain  the  execrable  commerce,  and  that  this  assem 
blage  of  horrors  might  want  no  fact  of  distinguished  dye, 
he  is  now  exciting  those  very  people  to  rise  in  arms 
among  us,  and  purchase  that  liberty  of  which  he  has 
deprived  them,  by  murdering  the  people  on  whom  he 
obtruded  them,  thus  paying  off  former  crimes  committed 
against  the  liberties  of  one  people  with  crimes  which 
he  urges  them  to  commit  against  the  lives  of  another." 

"  And  Jefferson  had  to  leave  it  out  of  the  Declaration  ?  " 
inquired  Willard. 

"  That's  what  he  says." 

"  There  have  always  been  some  true  men,"  said  Wil 
lard.  "  This  Henry  Lawrence  wrote  his  son,  '  I  abhor 
slavery ;'  and  Dr.  Samuel  Hopkins  wrote,  during  the 
Revolutionary  war,  against  it,  and  Dr.  Jonathan  Edwards 
preached  a  severe  sermon  against  it,  at  New  Haven  in 
1791,  under  the  title  of  '  The  Golden  Rule,'  and  said  that 
the  Southern  planter  who  held  slaves  was  like  the  Sul 
tan  in  his  seraglio." 

"  Yes,  there  appear  to  have  been  some  men  all  the 
while  who  thought  it  wrong  to  hold  men  in  bondage,"  an 
swered  Noble. 

"  Boston !  "  shouted  the  conductor. 

"  Is  it  possible  we're  here  ? "  exclaimed  Willard. 
"  How  quickly  the  time  has  passed !  " 

They  passed  up  the  street  toward  the  hotel,  Willard 
admiring  the  fine  buildings,  and  gazing  with  interest 
upon  the  great  city.  Noble  ordered  an  elaborate  sup 
per  at  the  hotel,  and  our  friends  discussed  the  colored 
orator. 

"How  old  is  he?"  inquired  Willard. 

"  About  thirty,  I  think." 

"  Have  you  heard  him  ?  " 

"  Once." 

"  Was  he  eloquent  ?  " 

"  He  is  called  very  eloquent.  You  know  he  is  a  run 
away  slave,  and  has  been  lecturing  only  some  three  years." 

"  Is  he  black  ?  " 


134  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  He  is  a  mulatto." 

"  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  In  Xevv  Bedford,  Mass.  He  was  born  in  Tucka- 
hoe,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Maryland,  a  terribly 
wretched  district,  where  the  colored  people  were  the 
prey  of  profligate  white  men.  His  mother  was  a  black 
woman  with  straight  hair,  and  he  doesn't  know  who  his 
father  was,  but  thinks  he  was  a  noted  politician  of  the 
neighborhood.  Some  think  his  mother  was  descended 
from  the  Mandingo  tribes  of  Africa,  who  have  fine  forms 
and  wavy  hair,  and  are  intelligent,  proud  and  brave. 
Others  think  she  had  Indian  blood  in  her  veins." 

"  How  long  did  he  remain  a  slave?  " 

'  Till  he  was  twenty-one,  then  he  ran  away,  married 
Anna  Murray  in  New  York,  and  went  to  liv:  in  Xe\v 
Bedford.  He  had  a  good  many  trials  on  account  of  his 
color.  He  had  learned  to  read  in  boyhood,  and  first  be 
gan  to  speak  in  public  with  his  colored  friends,  subscribed 
for  the  Liberator,  and  Garrison  appears  to  be  his  ideal. 
At  a  great  anti-slavery  meeting  in  Xantucket  in  1841,  he 
recounted  his  experiences,  and,  as  you  know,  is  now  in 
great  demand  as  a  lecturer  on  the  anti-slavery  question." 

Supper  was  in  progress  when  Xoble  looked  up  and 
saw  several  men  entering  the  hotel. 

"  There's  Douglass  now,"  said  he.  \Yillard  turned 
and  saw  a  tall,  sinewy  looking  mulatto,  with  large  head, 
strong  features  and  curly  hair,  pass  into  the  room.  A 
man  with  a  head  partly  bald  stood  by  his  side.  Two 
other  men  were  with  them. 

"  Why,  there's  Wendell  Phillips,"  whispered  Aldrich. 

"  That  bald-headed  man  is  Garrison,"  returned  Noble. 
"  Yes,  and  surelv  there  is  my  friend  from  Xatick. 
Henry  Wilson.  Excuse  me  a  moment;  I'll  speak  with 
him  and  we'll  get  introduced. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Wilson,  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
Xoble. 

"Why,  Xoble,  how  are  you?  Didn't  expect  to  see 
you  here.  Allow  me,  gentlemen,  my  friend  Representa 
tive  Xoble  of  Glentown,  Mr.  Douglass,  Mr.  Garrison 
and  Mr.  Phillips." 

"  And  this  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Aldrich,  gentlemen,  a 


Frederick  Douglass.  135 

better  Abolitionist  than  I  am.  We've  come  to  Boston 
on  purpose  to  hear  you,  Mr.  Douglass." 

Willard  shook  hands  all  round,  and  the  gentlemen 
appeared  pleased  to  meet  him. 

"  Gentlemen,  here's  room  at  our  table  for  the  whole 
party  unless  you  wish  to  be  private,"  spoke  Noble. 

"  Just  the  thing,"  said  Wilson.  "  I've  been  wanting 
to  see  you,  Frank ;  you  really  must  come  out  squarely  on 
our  side ;  things  are  beginning  to  move,  and  we  need 
you.  We  appreciate  all  your  strong  words  at  General 
Court,  but  we've  got  to  put  things  in  practical  opera 
tion  on  political  lines  soon,  and  you're  just  the  man  to 
help  us." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  so  far  as  I  have  received  your 
doctrines,  Wilson,"  returned  Noble. 

"  You  are  going  to  be  one  with  us  on  emancipation, 
I  am  sure  ?  "  was  the  answer. 

"  Mr.  Phillips,"  said  Willard,  "  I  had  the  great  privi 
lege  of  hearing  you  lecture  in  Glentown." 

"  Yes,  I  was  there  several  years  ago.  Our  cause  has 
advanced  some  since  then,  yet  slowly,"  responded 
Phillips. 

Our  friends  and  the  great  Abolitionists  discussed  vari 
ous  phases  of  the  movement. 

"  Mr.  Douglass,"  said  Willard,  "  you  have  had  some 
personal  experiences  with  this  evil  system  which  the 
rest  have  not  had,  and  I  would  be  much  pleased  to  hear 
of  them." 

"  There  will  be  little  time  before  the  meeting,"  an 
swered  Douglass,  "  but  part  of  the  lecture  to-night  will 
be  along  that  line." 

"  Mr.  Garrison,"  spoke  up  Willard,  "  you  still  have 
faith  that  the  struggle  for  liberty  will  meet  with 
victory  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,"  replied  the 
great  Abolitionist. 

The  party  went  to  Faneuil  Hall.  Through  the  cour 
tesy  of  the  leaders,  Willard  and  Noble  both  had  seats 
on  the  platform. 

Frederick  Douglass  was  introduced,  and  for  one  and  a 
half  hours  held  the  audience  interested  while  he  gave 


136  Love  and  Liberty. 

some  of  his  experiences,  and  thundered  against  the 
wickedness  of  the  slave  power. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen :  I  am  glad 
to  speak  in  this  presence  this  hour,  concerning  the  cause 
of  emancipation.  The  colored  people  of  the  South  are 
only  so  many  pieces  of  property,  and  are  held  as  chat 
tels.  They  can  be  sold  for  deht,  mortgaged  for  real 
estate,  and  even  unborn  children  are  often  mortgaged 
for  the  debts  of  a  master.  They  can  no  more  contract 
a  legal  marriage  while  in  slavery  than  a  bedstead  can 
marry  a  cooking-stove,  or  a  plow  be  married  to  a  spin 
ning-wheel.  Week  after  week,  they  are  advertised  to  be 
sold  with  horses,  cows  and  pigs.  They  are  forbidden  to 
learn  to  read,  and  it  is  a  crime  by  law  to  teach  them, 
and  they  have  no  legal  right  to  be  Christians." 

Douglass  then  spoke  of  his  early  days,  his  genealogy, 
the  cruelty  of  Colonel  Lloyd,  his  old  master,  and  the 
small  rations  allowed  slaves.  He  told  how  he  would  get 
into  a  bag  in  cold  weather  to  keep  warm,  and  that 
children,  not  old  enough  to  work,  had  neither  shoes, 
stockings  nor  trousers ;  his  own  feet  had  cracked  open 
with  the  frost.  The  only  beds  were  coarse  blankets, 
and  none  of  those  for  children.  Babies  were  nursed  in 
the  field  when  mothers  could  not  be  spared  to  tro  home. 
His  Aunt  Esther  received  forty  stripes  from  her  master, 
which  drew  blood,  because  the  master  was  jealous  of  a 
slave;  and  his  cousin,  fifteen  years  old,  had  been  beaten 
to  death  by  her  mistress  because  she  failed  to  hear  the 
cry  of  a  baby  who  had  kept  her  up  for  many  nights. 

"  I  was  switched  into  learning  the  Lord's  prayer," 
continued  he,  "  and  was  told  that  God  made  black  people 
to  be  slaves,  and  white  men  to  be  their  masters.  I  only 
saw  my  mother,  after  I  could  remember,  three  times,  and 
every  time  in  the  night.  I  often  prayed  for  freedom, 
but  it  was  only  when  I  prayed  with  my  feet  that  I  be 
came  free.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  Douglass  went  on, 
"  The  struggle  in  which  we  are  engaged  is  a  moral  as 
well  as  a  political  reform.  Enforced  morality  is  artificial 
morality.  We  must  cause  men  to  do  right  from  prin 
ciple.  The  limits  of  tyrants  are  prescribed  by  the  endur 
ance  of  those  whom  they  oppress.  This  nation  is  now 


Frederick  Douglass.  137 

in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  the  bond  of  iniquity.  I 
sometimes  fear  that  my  race  has  no  hope  of  justice;  no 
possible  hope  except  in  their  own  right  arms.  Perhaps 
this  struggle  will  come  to  blood.  It  may  be  that  they 
must  fight  for  themselves,  redeem  themselves,  if  they  are 
ever  to  be  free !  " 

Willard  observed,  as  Douglass  proceeded,  a  tall,  dark 
colored  woman  dressed  in  a  peculiar  manner,  sitting  in 
the  very  front  row  of  seats,  facing  the  platform.  On  her 
head  she  wore  a  bright  handkerchief  arranged  as  a 
turban  after  the  manner  of  her  race,  and  kept  looking  at 
Frederick  with  a  solemn  twinkle  of  humor,  in  an  odd, 
strange  way.  Just  as  Douglass  finished  in  the  hush  of 
deep  feeling,  she  spoke  in  a  deep,  composed  voice  heard 
all  over  the  house, 

"  Frederick,  is  God  dead?  " 

The  effect  was  electrical,  and  thrilled  the  whole  au 
dience,  changing  the  feeling  from  despair  to  hope. 

"  No,"  shouted  Douglass,  springing  to  his  feet,  "  God 
is  not  dead,  therefore  it  is  slavery  that  must  end  in 
blood.  The  world  moves,  but  only  by  fighting  every  inch 
of  its  disputed  way.  We  who  have  God  and  conscience 
on  our  side  have  a  majority  against  the  universe.  The 
earth  is  God's  and  ought  to  be  covered  with  righteous 
ness  and  not  slavery." 

The  audience  broke  into  wild  applause  as  the  orator 
resumed  his  seat.  Willard  listened  to  the  remarkable 
man  with  feeling  akin  to  awe.  "  And  that  man  was  a 
slave  till  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,"  he  said  to 
himself.  In  his  looks,  gesture,  and  manner  there  was 
genuine  earnest  eloquence.  Only  a  part  of  his  address 
is  brought  to  our  readers.  At  times,  he  seemed  rushing 
down  some  fearful  steep,  bidding  one  follow,  and  then 
along  some  delightful  stream,  beckoning  one  onward, 
moving  the  soul  in  grandest  impulse  toward  the  right 
eousness  of  his  cause. 

As  the  meeting  closed,  Douglass  dropped  from  the 
rostrum  to  the  main  floor,  took  the  old  colored  woman 
by  the  hand  and  exclaimed,  "  Sojourncr  Truth,  I  saw 
you  all  the  time.  How  are  you,  my  good  woman?  " 

"  Well,  honey,  de  Lord  bless  ye,  I'm  fust  rate ;  ye  mus' 


138  Love  and  Liberty. 

have  a  leetle  mor'  faith  in  Jesus,  Frederick,  a  leetle 
mor'  faith  in  Jesus  !  " 

"  I'm  not  in  despair,  Sojourner,  but  arming  the  hlacks 
might  help  God  out  a  little,"  answered  Douglass. 

"Chile,  chile,  wait  God's  good  time.  lie's  comin' 
honey,  He's  comin'.  I  hear  His  footsteps  on  de  road. 
'  De  year  ob  jubilee  is  comin'  and  de  King  is  on  de  way.'  ' 

Others  came  up  to  greet  Sojourner,  among  them  \Yil- 
lard  and  Mr.  Xoble. 

"  Auntie,  I've  heard  about  you,"  said  Xoble,  "  I'm 
very  glad  to  see  you." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  chimed  in  Willard. 

"  I'se  glad  to  see  you.  bof.  '  De  year  ob  jubilee  is 
comin'  and  de  King  is  on  de  way,'  "  sang  Sojourner. 

"  \Yc  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Sojourner ;  come 
over  to  our  hotel  in  the  morning,"  said  Xoble.  He  ex 
plained  where  to  meet  them  on  the  morrow,  shook  hands 
with  her  and  the  Abolitionists,  said  good-by  to  bis 
friend  Henry  Wilson,  and  departed  with  Willard  to  the 
hotel. 


Sojourner  Truth.  139 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SOJOURNER   TRUTH. 

THE  next  morning,  Sojourner  appeared  at  the  ap 
pointed  time. 

"  Walk  right  in,  auntie,  we  want  to  hear  about 
your  experience  and  didn't  know  as  we'd  ever  get  an 
other  chance,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Noble  as  he  met  her  at  the 
door.  He  took  her  into  the  public  parlor  where  Wil- 
lard  and  others  greeted  her.  Sojourner  liked  an  au 
dience  and  was  perfectly  at  home.  She  had  on  the  light 
Madras  'kerchief,  and  her  whole  air  had  a  gloomy  sort 
of  drollery  which  strangely  impressed  one.  She  sat 
down  and  began  to  sigh,  "  O  Lord !  O  Lord !  the 
tears  an'  the  groans  an'  the  moans !  O  Lord !  " 

"  Can  you  read,  Sojourner?  " 

"  No,  honey,  can't  read  a  word,  nor  a  letter,  but  I'se 
a  kind  o'  preacher,  and  lectur'r." 

"  What   do   you   preach   from  ? "   asked   Willard. 

"  O,  I  preaches  'bout  Jesus  and  'bout  slavery." 

"  You  believe  in  Jesus  ?  "  questioned  Noble. 

"  Ce'tingly,  ce'tingly,  He's  my  Saviour.  I  believe  in 
Abolition,  too !  '' 

"  Were  you  born  here?  "  asked  Willard. 

"  No,  honey,  we  was  all  brought  over  from  Africa, 
father  an'  mother  an'  I,  an'  a  lot  more  of  us,  an'  was 
sold  up  and  down,  hither  an'  yon.  When  I  was  about 
ten  years  ole,  my  mammy  would  sit  an'  groan  an'  groan, 
an'  when  T  axed  her  what  was  the  matter,  she'd  say, 
'Matter  'noiigh,  chile!  I'm  groanin'  to  think  o'  my 
poor  children  ;  they  don't  know  where  I  be  an'  I  don't 
know  where  they  be.  You  may  be  sold  'way  from  your 
mother,  chile,  when  you  grow  up,  and  when  troubles 
come  on  ye,  jest  go  to  God,  an'  He'll  help  you  out." 

"'Who's   God?'   I   said,   an'   she   s?.ys,   'Why,   chile, 


140  Love  and  Liberty. 

jist  look  up  to  clem  stars  a-shinin' ;  it's  Him  dat  made 
dcm !  '  But  O,  honeys,"  went  on  Sojourner,  "I  didn't 
min'  'bout  God  and  got  into  trouble  an'  was  'bused  by 
Massa  and  Missus,  so  I  got  up  'bout  tbree  o'clock  in 
tbe  mornin'  and  run  away.  1  prayed  then  to  God  an'  He 
sent  me  to  a  Quaker's  house,  where  de  folks  was  real 
kind  to  me,  and  put  me  to  sleep  in  a  room  with  a  tall 
white  bed  in  it,  but  I  was  skeered  when  they  left  me 
'lone  with  that  white  bed,  'cause  I'd  never  been  in  one  in 
my  life,  so  I  jest  camped  down  under  it  and  slept  pretty 
well.  When  dey  say  in  de  mornin',  '  You  haven't  been 
in  bed,'  I  says,'  Laws,  you  don't  s'pose  I'd  think  o'  sleepin' 
in  dat  ar  bed,  do  you?  I  couldn't  think  o'  such  a  thing.'  ' 
Willard  and  Noble  laughed  till  they  cried  at  So- 
journer's  droll,  odd  way  of  telling  her  story.  She  told 
them  how,  at  last,  she  found  Jesus,  "  An'  then,  honeys, 
it  was  like  the  sun  shinin'  in  a  pail  of  water,  an'  some 
thing  spoke  and  said,  '  This  is  Jesus,'  and  I  cried,  '  Glory 
be  to  God!'  an'  the  whole  world  grew  bright,  an'  the 
trees  waved  and  waved  in  glory,  an'  every  bit  o'  stone 
on  the  groun1  shone  like  glass  and  I  shouted,  '  Praise  the 
Lord !  '  and  begun  to  feel  love  in  my  heart  to  everybody, 
even  to  de  white  folks.  After  dat,"  continued  Sojourner, 
"  I  had  heaps  o'  trouble  in  some  ways, but  my  Jesus  stayed 
wid  me.  My  name  was  Isabella,  but  de  Lord  gave  me 
Sojourner,  an'  afterwards  I  tole  Him  I  wanted  another 
name,  and  the  Lord  gave  me  Truth,  'cause  I  must  de 
clare  de  truth  to  de  people.  I  journeys  roun'  to  camp 
meetings,  and  sets  up  my  banner,"  and  she  pulled  out 
a  white  satin  banner  some  one  had  given  her,  printed, 
"  Proclaim  Liberty  throughout  all  the  land  unto  all  the 
inhabitants  thereof.  .  .  ."  "  I  sings  and  I  preaches,  an' 
tell  folks  about  my  Jesus,  an'  about  the  sins  o'  this 
people.  A  great  many  come  to  hear  me  an'  are  right 
good  to  me  an'  want  me  to  come  agin."  And  Sojourner 
rolled  her  eyes  up  to  the  ceiling  and  sang: 

"  O»  glory,  glory,  glory, 
Won't  you  come  along  with  me." 

"  Gentlemen,   I  calls  you  all  to  repent  of  your  sins, 
an'  work  for  de  cause  of  de  poor,  poor  slave,  for, 


Sojourner  Truth.  141 

"  '  De  year  ob  jubilee  is  comin' 
And  de'King  is  on  de  way.'  " 

And  the  tall,  gaunt,  dusky  figure  rose  from  her  seat, 
and  walked  back  and  forth  singing  this  stanza : 

"  I'm  on  my  way  to  Canada, 

That  cold  but  happy  land ; 
The  dire  effects  of  slavery 

I  can  no  longer  stand  ; 
O  righteous  Father  do  look  down  on  me 

And  help  me  to  Canada,  where  colored  folks  is  free." 

"  Well  done,  Sojourner,"  exclaimed  Noble.  "  We 
thank  you  much  for  your  experience  and  shall  try  to 
profit  by  it." 

"  Yes,  Sojourner,"  said  Willard,  "  your  Jesus  is  my 
Jesus,  too,  and  the  cause  of  the  slave  is  very  near  to 
my  heart." 

'''  God  bless  you,  honeys,  every  one,"  said  Sojourner. 
"  I  must  go.  O,  glory,  glory,  glory,  won't  you  go  along 
with  me?  "  she  sang  again. 

Frank  Noble  slipped  a  five-dollar  gold  piece  into  her 
hand,  and  Sojourner,  with  many  thanks  and  courtesies, 
took  her  departure. 

"  A  rare  old  soul,"  exclaimed  one. 

"  Yes,  a  unique  genius,"  said  Willard.  "  God  never 
made  another  like  her." 

Mr.  Noble  consulted  his  watch,  and  after  a  ramble 
with  Willard  about  the  city,  both  of  them  took  the  after 
noon  train  for  Glentown. 

Willard,  with  shining  eyes,  told  Margaret  all  about 
his  wonderful  adventures. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  Sojourner,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Holy  Vargin,  she  must  'ave  been  a  character," 
shouted  Pat  Quinn  from  his  place  in  the  chimney  corner. 
"  Be  me  sowl  I  niver  heerd  o'  such  a  woman  as  that  be 
fore  ;  God  bless  'er,"  and  Pat  laughed  loudly  till  the 
baby  in  the  cradle  began  to  cry.  But  I  must  tell  you 
that  this  baby  was  a  boy,  and  his  name  was  Wendell 
Phillips.  Little  Rachel  was  now  nearly  five  years  old, 
When  told  that  the  baby's  name  was  Wendell  Phillips, 
she  said,  "  I  think  it  would  be  proper  to  name  hiiri 
Aldrich." 


142  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
A  PLAN  WHICH  SUCCEEDED. 

"  NATICK,  MASS.,  1848. 
"  MY  DEAR  NOBLE  : — 

"  I  must  see  you  right  away.  Our  bread  has  become 
dough  again.  The  National  Whig  convention  of  which 
I  had  the  honor  to  be  a  member  is  over.  As  you  know, 
Taylor  is  nominated  for  President.  lie  is  a  slaveholder 
and  hero  of  the  unrighteous  and  bloody  war  with 
Mexico,  waged  to  extend  the  accursed  system  of  slavery. 
Charles  Allen  and  myself  were  delegates  from  Massa 
chusetts  and  bolted  the  convention.  We  can  no  longer 
train  in  a  slaveholding  political  crowd ;  the  cause  of 
humanity  demands  a  new  political  party.  We  shall 
combine  with  the  Liberty  Party,  the  Barnburners  or 
anti-slavery  Democrats  of  New  York,  and  the  anti- 
slavery  Whigs.  We  desire  you  to  be  a  delegate,  and 
then  I  have  a  plan  which  we  must  work  out  with  Allen 
and  others.  It  will  be  necessary  to  have  a  newspaper 
edited  in  Boston  in  the  interests  of  our  cause.  The  con 
vention  will  probably  meet  in  Buffalo.  Come  to-morrow 
if  possible ;  at  all  events,  come  at  your  earliest  conven 
ience. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

"  HENRY  WILSON." 

Frank  Noble  met  Wilson  the  next  day,  and  together 
they  discussed  the  situation. 

"  Bless  you,  Noble,  was  never  more  glad  to  see  a  man." 

"  Right  glad  to  see  you,  Wilson ;  great  times  upon 
us,  eh?" 

"  You  are  right,  Noble.  This  long  contest  with  slav 
ery  is  coming  to  its  height,  and  the  air  is  full  of  the 
noise;  this  period  has  no  parallel  for  the  intensity, 


A  Plan  which  Succeeded.  143 

variety  and  disastrous  results  of  the  slavery  struggle. 
Think  of  it,  Noble,  one  sixth  part  of  the  whole  popula 
tion  of  the  country  bought  and  sold  at  the  whim  or  ca 
price  of  slaveholders.  It's  too  dreadful  to  contem 
plate,  and  yet  we  call  ourselves  a  Christian  nation.  The 
good  Lord  forgive  us !  There  is  an  antagonism  between 
the  two  sections  of  the  country,  which  is  irreconcilable. 
The  people  of  the  South-land  are  the  descendants  of  the 
Cavaliers.  We  of  the  North  are  the  children  of  the 
Roundheads.  How  shall  we  ever  be  able  to  coalesce?" 

"  God  will  open  the  way,  I  think.  Now  tell  me  some 
of  your  plans,"  said  Noble. 

"  Open  the  way,  do  you  say?  When  one  section  resfs 
proudly  on  slavery,  and  the  other  on  the  principles  of 
freedom  ?  Well,  it  is  possible,  for  God  is  altogether  wise 
and  good.  Our  plans  are  first  to  get  as  many  states 
as  possible  represented  in  the  National  convention.  I 
think  we'll  take^he  name  of  Freesoilers,  and  bring  in  all 
the  anti-slavery  elements  we  possibly  can.  We  must 
advocate  prohibition  of  the  extension  of  slavery  into 
free  territories.  This  must  be  our  rallying-cry." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Noble,  "  I  agree  to  that." 

"  Then  after  we  get  the  National  Party  started,  I 
think  here  in  Massachusetts  we  can  make  a  coalition 
with  the  Democrats.  For  instance,  go  in  with  them  to 
elect  their  Governor,  and  they  agree  to  elect  a  legisla 
ture  which  will  give  us  a  United  States  senator." 

"  That  may  also  work,  though  it's  a  risky  deal  with 
Democrats,"  replied  Noble. 

"  We  shall  have  to  risk  something  to  get  the  matter 
started,  but  I  believe  we'll  win.  Then  this  Freesoil 
paper  must  be  edited  in  Boston,  and  you  are  just  the 
man  for  it,  Noble." 

"  I  couldn't  possibly  do  it,"  was  the  answer.  "  In  the 
first  place,  I  haven't  the  ability,  and  in  the  second  place, 
I  haven't  the  time  to  take  from  my  business,  especially  if 
I  should  be  elected  State  senator  this  fall  from  Glen- 
town,  as  some  of  the  people  are  talking.  You  are  the 
man  to  edit  that  paper,  Wilson." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do." 


144  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Well,  well,  we'll  see  later  on.  Somebody  will  appear 
for  the  work,  surely." 

"  What  man  have  you  in  mind  for  United  States 
senator?  "  asked  Xoble. 

"I  haven't  breathed  it  to  any  one,"  answered  Wilson, 
"  and  you  mustn't  either  for  the  present ;  but  it's  Charles 
Sumner !  " 

"Charles  Sumner!  Whew!"  whistled  Noble.  "Is 
he  a  Freesoiler?  and  isn't  he  too  aristocratic  for  our 
use?  " 

"  In  answer  to  your  first  question,  he  is  a  Freesoiler ; 
he  has  written  an  open  letter  to  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  ar 
raigning  him  for  his  vote  in  the  House  of  Representa 
tives,  which  was  in  favor  of  the  Mexican  war.  Win 
throp  will  never  forgive  him  his  severity.  He  has  also 
criticised  Webster's  late  attitude  apparently  favoring 
slave  extension.  These  things  have  actually  placed  him 
outside  the  fashionable  life  of  Boston  where  he  has 
reigned  so  long.  Webster  has  always  been  proud  to  call 
Sumner  his  friend,  but  met  him  the  other  day  in  Boston 
and  would  hardly  speak  to  him,  and  the  great  houses, 
like  the  Ticknors  and  Eliots,  have  literally  refused  him 
all  social  relations.  It  is  true  that  he  is  an  aristocrat 
and  all  his  sympathies  are  naturally  with  the  Whigs,  and 
all  the  more  honor  to  him  for  taking  up  the  cause  of  the 
oppressed." 

"  The  world  do  move,"  exclaimed  Xoble.  "  If  Sum 
ner  is  with  us,  and  can  be  elected,  I'll  go  for  him  with 
all  my  heart." 

"  I  think  we'll  win  with  him,"  answered  Wilson. 

The  Freesoilers  met  at  Buffalo  in  the  fall  of  1848. 
as  Wilson  planned,  and  made  a  frank  declaration  of 
principles.  The  Whig  convention  had  refused  to  affirm 
the  Wilmot  Proviso,  but  the  Freesoil  convention  declared 
as  follows : 

"  Resolved  that  our  fathers  ordained  the  Constitu 
tion  of  the  United  States  to  establish  justice,  promote  the 
general  welfare,  and  secure  the  blessings  of  liberty.  In 
the  judgment  of  the  convention,  Congress  has  no  more 
right  to  make  a  slave  than  a  king ;  no  more  power  to  in- 


A  Plan  which  Succeeded.  143 

stitute  or  establish  slavery  than  monarchy.  It  is  the  duty 
of  the  national  government  to  relieve  itself  from  all  re 
sponsibility  for  the  existence  of  slavery  wherever  it  pos 
sesses  constitutional  authority  to  legislate  on  the  subject. 
The  true  and  only  safe  means  of  preventing  the  exten 
sion  of  slavery  is  to  prohibit  its  extension  in  all  free  terri 
tory,  by  an  act  of  Congress." 

The  convention  nominated  Martin  Van  Buren  for  Pres 
ident,  though  he  did  not  receive  at  the  general  election  a 
single  electoral  vote. 

Henry  Wilson  had  been  in  the  Senate  in  '44  and  '45, 
and  the  falls  of  '49  and  '50  was  re-elected.  The  same 
elections  placed  Frank  Noble  as  senator  irom  Glentown. 

The  sagacious  Wilson  had  started  the  Freesoil  news 
paper,  and  believed  it  was  possible  for  the  anti-slavery 
men  of  Massachusetts  to  elect  a  United  States  senator, 
thinking  it  would  be  of  the  greatest  value  to  the  cause  of 
freedom.  Some  of  the  anti-slavery  people,  however, 
did  not  hold  the  same  view ;  but  Charles  Allen  and  Frank 
Noble  agreed  that  such  action  would  greatly  advance  the 
cause. 

"  We  must  form  the  coalition  with  the  Democrats," 
said  Wilson. 

"  All  right,"  replied  Noble,  "  but  no  one  except  the 
Lord  can  tell  how  we'll  come  out  with  such  a  combina 
tion." 

One-half  of  the  bargain  was  soon  accomplished. 
George  S.  Boutwell  was  elected  Governor,  and  Robert 
Rantoul  senator  ilntil  March  4,  1851,  the  balance  of 
Webster's  unexpired  term. 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  said  Wilson. 

"  Now  comes  the  tug  of  war,"  answered  Noble.  "  This 
is  a  tough  legislature  to  elect  an  anti-slavery  senator; 
these  Whigs  don't  want  Charles  Sumner." 

"  They'll  have  to  take  him  now,"  was  the  answer.  "  It 
is  a  part  of  the  bargain." 

"  What  do  some  of  these  men  care  for  the  arrange 
ment  ?  "  cried  Noble.  "  We  can't  help  ourselves  if  they 
fail  to  keep  their  promises !  " 

Noble  had  it  right.  For  three  months  the  struggle 
continued.  Wilson  and  Noble,  however,  would  not  yield 

10 


146  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  fought  like  heroes.  Wilson  was  an  able  general, 
and  bound  to  win.  Seconded  by  Noble,  he  skilfully 
manipulated  matters,  and  yet  the  desired  result  was  not 
secured. 

"  How  long  will  this  hang  fire,  Wilson?  "  asked  Noble. 

"  We  must  get  a  secret  ballot,"  was  the  answer. 
"  There  are  t\vo  or  three  of  those  Whigs  who  really 
sympathize  with  us,  but  are  afraid  of  their  constituents. 
I  believe  a  secret  ballot  will  give  us  the  victory." 

"  That  may  be  true,"  replied  Noble ;  "  suppose  we  try 
it  to-morrow." 

"  All   right,"    agreed    Wilson. 

The  matter  was  carefully  worked  up,  the  Freesoilers 
given  directions,  and  the  next  day,  April  24,  the  secret 
ballot  was  taken  which  gave  Charles  Suinner  the  exact 
number  of  required  votes. 

"  I  declare  Charles  Simmer  elected  United  States 
senator  from  Massachusetts,"  announced  the  speaker. 

"  We've  won,"  exclaimed  Wilson  to  his  friend. 

"  Bless  the  good  Lord,"  responded  Noble. 

At  the  recess,  the  Freesoilers  expressed  themselves 
exultantly  and  there  was  great  joy  in  that  city  among 
the  anti-slavery  men,  when  Sumner  took  his  place  as 
senator  in  the  thirty-second  Congress. 


A  party  of  Congressmen  and  statesmen  met  one  morn 
ing  in  Washington. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  morning  paper,  gentlemen  ?  " 
inquired  Stephen  A.  Douglass. 

"  Just  been  reading  it,"  replied  Buchanan.  "  I  see 
•  they've  elected  Sumner  at  last." 

"  Sumner  elected?  "  exclaimed  Jefferson  Davis,  "  that's 
a  bad  one.  I  didn't  suppose  the  Massachusetts  legis 
lature  had  gone  crazy.  How  did  it  happen?" 

"  They  took  a  secret  ballot,"  said  Cass.  "  Some  Whig 
voted  with  the  Freesoilers  and  gave  Sumner  just  enough 
votes." 

"  Jerusalem !  "  exclaimed  Mason,  "  he's  got  there,  has 
he?  What  kind  of  a  fellow  is  he  anyway?" 

"  A  born  aristocrat,"  replied  Douglass.    "  Plow  he  ever 


A  Plan  which  Succeeded.  147 

came  to  espouse  the  Abolition  cause  is  a  mystery ;  he 
ought  to  have  a  hundred  niggers  to  wait  on  him.  He's 
proud  as  Luciter,  they  say." 

"  Charles  Sunnier  in  the  United  States  Senate!"  said 
Buchanan,  "  that  sounds  strangely  enough.  I  wonder 
how  it  will  affect  our  cause.  He  can't  do  anything; 
everything  is  going  just  as  we  want  it,  so  we  needn't 
worrv." 


There  was  another  party  of  Congressmen  who  had  seen 
the  morning  papers. 

"  Look  here,  Charles  Sumner  has  won !  " 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  Chase.  "  Where  is 
it?" 

"  Right  there,"  said  Seward,  pointing  to  the  paper. 

'  Yesterday  in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  after 
a  prolonged  fight  of  three  months,  Charles  Sumner  was 
elected  United  States  senator.  The  result  was  obtained 
by  a  secret  ballot,  when  some  member,  probably  a  Whig, 
changed  his  vote  to  Sumner,  giving  him  the  required 
majority.  Henry  Wilson  is  said  to  be  the  man  who  has 
at  length  secured  this  result." 

"  Thank  the  Lord,"  exclaimed  John  P.  Hale,  "  we'll 
have  some  help  now,  gentlemen,  in  the  cause  of  human 
freedom." 

When  Sumner  arrived,  Benton  said  to  him :  "  You 
come  upon  the  stage  too  late,  sir,  the  great  issues  are  all 
settled." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  answered  Sumner.  "We  shall 
see,  sir." 

Theodore  Parker  wrote  Sumner,  congratulating1  him. 
''  You  once  told  me  you  were  not  in  politics  but  in  morals. 
Now,  I  hope  you  will  show  morals  in  politics,"  and  he 
did. 


Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

TROUBLE  IN   KEENE. 

"  MOTHER,  mother,  I  can  never  tell  you.  I'm  heart 
broken ;  what  shall  I  do?"  and  Marion  sobbed  out  her 
grief  to  the  loving  mother,  who  put  her  arms  about  the 
beautiful  daughter,  and  tenderly  caressed  her. 

"  Don't  worry  so  about  Lawrence,  he  is  not  worthy 
of  you,  my  daughter.  We  at  home,  you  know,  have  never 
trusted  him,  and  I'm  sure  his  leaving  you  will  prove  for 
the  best ;  so  cheer  up  and  take  heart  again.  There  are 
other  young  men  far  more  suitable  for  my  Marion,"  and 
Mrs.  Fuller  kissed  the  sobbing  girl. 

"  But,  mother,  I  loved  him  so,  and  he  promised  to  be 
my  husband.  We  were  engaged,  you  know.  Why  should 
he  leave  me  like  this?  Sec,  here  is  his  letter,"  and 
Marion  put  the  letter  into  her  mother's  hands.  The 
mother  took  it  and  read : 

"  DEAR  MARION  : — 

"  After  thinking  over  the  matter,  I  have  decided  that  it 
would  not  be  best  for  us  to  be  married  as  we  planned. 
You  know  I  love  you  dearly  and  we  have  had  some 
splendid  times  the  last  six  months,  since  that  glorious 
ball,  haven't  we,  love?  But  pa  and  ma  are  kicking  like 
everything  against  a  marriage  with  you.  They  both 
say  you're  beautiful  and  nice  and  all  that,  but  your 
folks  are  Abolitionists,  and  father  believes  in  slav 
ery.  Then  our  social  position  isn't  the  same,  love,  of 
course,  though  I  don't  care  a  rap  about  that,  but  the  old 
folks  do.  I  srppose  I  never  ought  to  have  gone  with  you 
at  all,  but  i  declare  I  love  you  now,  and  have  all  the 
time.  What  can  I  do,  however?  Pa  says  he'll  disinherit 
me  if  I  don't  break  the  engagement,  and  so  I've  got  to 
give  in.  I'm  going  off  for  a  while  and  I  guess  you'll  see 


Trouble  in  Keene.  149 

some  other  young-  man  you  will  like  just  as  well,  and  may 
be  better.    So  good-by. 

"  LAWRENCE  LYONS." 

"  Isn't  it  cruel,  mother?  and  I  trusted  him  absolutely 
with  everything-,  and  now  he's  gone.  I'll  go  after  him; 
he  must  marry  me.  He  knows  he  must,  so  there !  " 

"  Try  to  be  quiet,  Marion.  What  would  you  gain  by 
attempting  to  force  a  union  with  Lawrence?  He  evi 
dently  cares  nothing  for  you,  and  his  folks,  as  I  suspected, 
regard  us  as  beneath  them.  I  feared  it  all.  O  Marion, 
I  am  so  sorry  you  would  not  listen  to  our  advice." 

"  Mother,  don't,  don't ;  he  shall  be  mine.  I  love  him, 
and  he  knows  it.  He  is  handsome  and  said  lie  loved  me. 
Yes,  he  even  says  it  in  his  letter.  Don't  you  see  ?  "  And 
Marion  pointed  to  a  sentence  in  the  letter. 

"  Such  love  as  he  has  for  you,  Marion,  is  of  no  ac 
count.  No  suitor  would  ever  write  such  a  letter  to  the 
girl  he  really  loved,  and  you  probably  believe  that  I  speak 
the  truth." 

But  Marion  would  not  be  consoled.  She  cried  and 
sobbed  and  walked  the  room,  wringing  her  hands,  in  de 
spair.  Her  mother  failed  to  quiet  her,  and  finally  left 
her  for  some  duties  which  demanded  attention.  She 
was  detained  longer  than  she  expected,  and  then  it 
was  time  to  see  about  supper ;  and  thinking  that  Marion, 
left  by  herself,  might  look  at  things  in  a  more  reasonable 
light,  she  continued  her  household  duties.  At  length,  the 
family  were  called  to  supper,  but  Marion  did  not  appear. 

"  Ada,  dear,  will  you  speak  to  Marion,  and  tell  her 
that  supper  is  ready?"  said  Mrs.  Fuller. 

Ada  returned  with  word  that  she  could  not  find  Marion  ; 
she  was  not  in  her  room,  or  the  parlor.  The  house  was 
searched  but  she  could  not  be  found. 

"  Jesse,  I  must  speak  with  you  alone,"  said  his  wife. 
They  went  out  alone  together. 

"  Husband,  Lawrence  has  broken  his  engagement  with 
Marion,  if  you  call  their  agreement  such,"  said  Mrs. 
Fuller,  "  though,  as  you  know,  there  has  been  no  formal 
announcement  of  an  engagement  between  them.  As  I 
suspected,  his  parents  object,  and  he  wrote  her  that  they 


i5o  Love  and  Liberty. 

could  not  be  married  and  that  he  was  going  away.  I 
had  a  talk  with  Marion  this  afternoon.  She  sobhed 
bitterly,  and  said  Lawrence  must  marry  her,  and  seemed 
almost  wild  with  her  grief.  I  went  to  attend  to  some  mat 
ters  and  get  supper,  thinking  she  would  grow  quiet  if  left 
alone,  and  now  she  is  gone.  What  shall  we  do?" 

"Wife,  do  you  think ?"  and  then  Jesse  stopped. 

"  I've  been  afraid  of  Lawrence  all  along,"  he  continued. 
"  Let's  speak  with  Horace,  perhaps  he'll  advise  us." 

Horace  was  called  and  they  related  the  circumstances. 

"  She  has  gone  to  find  Lawrence,"  said  Horace ;  "  I 
will  harness  the  horse  immediately  and  drive  into  West- 
port." 

"  Eat  some  supper."  said  his  mother. 

"  Never  mind  supper,"  returned  Horace.  "  Gerald," 
said  he  to  a  younger  brother,  as  he  passed  through  the 
kitchen  where  the  children  were  eating,  "  come  help  me 
harness  Kate."  They  went  to  the  barn,  Jesse  following. 
The  horse  was  soon  harnessed.  Horace  sprang  into  the 
sleigh  and  drove  away.  "  I'll  bring  news  as  soon  as 
possible;  keep  up  good  heart,  father  and  mother,"  and 
he  was  gone. 

When  Marion  was  left  alone,  she  came  to  the  conclu 
sion  to  go  to  Lawrence.  As  soon  as  she  reached  this 
decision  she  went  to  her  room,  hurriedly  dressed  herself 
in  substantial  clothing,  took  a  small  valise  and  filled  it 
with  such  articles  as  she  would  need.  She  had  a  con 
siderable  sum  of  money,  which  her  father  had  given  her 
for  the  purchase  of  clothing,  and  placed  the  wallet  in  her 
pocket.  She  hastily  left  the  house  unseen  by  any  of  the 
family.  It  was  winter  and  there  was  snow  upon  the 
ground,  but  it  was  a  pleasant  day,  comparatively  mild  for 
the  season  in  that  section  of  country. 

\Valking  rapidly  till  she  came  to  the  next  house, 
Marion,  with  the  excuse  that  her  people  were  busy  with 
the  teams,  engaged  farmer  Jones  to  drive  her  into  \Vest- 
port.  Neighbor  Jones  was  somewhat  surprised,  as  there 
were  plenty  of  horses  and  drivers  at  Jesse  Fuller's, 
nevertheless  quickly  harnessed  a  horse,  hitched  into  the 
sleigh  and  drove  rapidly  toward  the  village.  Marion  left 
Jiim  at  the  public  house,  saying  she  had  some  errands 


Trouble  in  Keene.  151 

to  do,  and  would  be  back  soon.  She  went  immediately 
to  the  home  of  Lawrence  Lyons,  rang-  the  bell,  and  a 
servant  came  to  the  door. 

"  Is  the  young'  Mr.  Lyons' at  home?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  has  gone  to  New  York  for  a  visit.  Can  I  do 
anything  for  you  ?  "  and  the  girl  eyed  her  suspiciously. 

Marion  winced  under  her  penetrating  gaze.  "  Can  you 
give  me  his  address  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  response.  "  Mrs.  Lyons  might.  Will 
you  see  her  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  responded  Marion,  and  was  ushered  into  the 
parlor.  It  was  an  elegantly  furnished  home,  and  Marion 
waited  in  great  anxiety  for  the  mistress  to  enter.  At 
length  she  heard  the  sweep  of  silk  skirts  and  Mrs.  Lyons 
appeared.  She  bowed  stiffly.  Marion  trembled,  and  said : 

"  Mrs.  Lyons,  I  am  Miss  Fuller.  As  you  know,  your 
son  Lawrence  has  been  my  suitor,  and  I  hear  he  has  gone 
away.  Could  you  give  me  his  address  ?  "  and  the  poor 
girl  cowered  beneath  the  disdainful  look  upon  the  lady's 
face. 

"  Indeed,"  she  replied,  "  so  you  are  Miss  Fuller  of 
whom  Lawrence  has  spoken?  It  is  a  modest  young  lady 
who  comes  boldly  to  inquire  for  my  son." 

"  Mrs.  Lyons,"  returned  Marion,  "your  son  has  been 
with  me  steadily  for  more  than  six  months.  We  are  en 
gaged  to  be  married ;  to-day  I  received  a  letter  from  him 
seeking  to  break  the  engagement ;  I  would  see  him  con 
cerning  the  matter.  He  .should  not  trifle  with  me,  as 
he  well  knows,"  and  Marion  could  scarce  restrain  her 
self. 

"Really,  Miss  Fuller,  an  engagement,  is  it?  And 
without  our  consent,  and  contrary  to  our  expressed 
wishes?  However,  I  am  glad  he  has  sense  to  break  any 
such  agreement,  if  he  ever  made  one." 

"  Mrs.  Lyons,  do  not  delay  me ;  the  servant  states  your 
son  has  gone  to  New  York.  Will  you  kindly  give  me 
the  address?  I  must  see  him.  I  love  him;  he  says 
he  loves  me ;  he  has  promised  to  be  my  husband.  He 
shall  not  leave  me ;  he  knows  he  must  not.  Time  after 
time  he  has  assured  me  of  his  devotion.  He  shall  re 
deem  his  promise.  I  have  trusted  him  completely.  What 


1 52  Love  and  Liberty. 

kind  of  a  man  would  he  be  to  break  a  pledge  to  a  trust 
ing  girl?  "  and  Marion  broke  into  hysterical  sobs. 

Mrs.  Lyons  looked  at  her  with  curling  lips,  and 
answered  coldly,  "  Go  your  way,  Miss  Fuller,  you'll  have 
no  address  from  me.  If  ever  our  son  made  any  engage 
ment  with  you,  it  was  against  our  wishes,  and  he  knew  it 
could  never  be  fulfilled.  It  was  unbecoming  in  you  to 
encourage  his  attentions  in  your  station  of  life.  There 
is  nothing  in  common  between  our  families  and  never 
could  be.  The  whole  idea  of  a  marriage  with  him  is  an 
absurd  impossibility.  Go  back  home  and  nurse  your 
chagrin  as  best  you  may.  Lawrence  can  never  be  your 
husband,  and  you  may  as  well  know  that  first  as  last," 
and  the  unsympathetic  woman  rose  in  rage  and  motioned 
towards  the  door.  But  Marion  made  one  more  despairing 
effort. 

"  Madam,  have  pity  ;  you  don't  know,  indeed  you  don't. 
If  you  did  you  would  be  merciful  to  me  as  you  hope  for 
mercy.  I  have  acted  in  good  faith  ;  he  knows  it.  No 
lover  could  apparently  be  more  in  earnest  than  Lawrence. 
At  least  give  me  his  address ;  let  me  see  him  again.  He. 
must  explain  some  things  ;  I  beseech  of  you,  be  kind  to 
me.  You  are  a  woman,  you  have  loved.  Perhaps  you 
have  suffered.  Remember,  madam,  however  much 
you  look  down  upon  my  family,  that  we  are  all  akin.  I 
have  never  wronged  you.  Grant  my  wish.  O  help  me ! 
Help  me !  " 

The  beautiful  face,  wild  with  grief  and  despair,  the 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  looked  into  the  face  of  the  proud 
woman.  For  a  moment,  at  mention  of  suffering  from 
love,  and  the  reminder  that  they  were  akin,  a  softer  look 
came  into  the  strong,  scornful  face,  but  it  immediately 
vanished,  and  with  a  wave  of  her  hand,  she  said  sternly, 
"  Go  home,  Miss  Fuller ;  the  servant  will  show  you  out. 
Do  not  trouble  us  again,"  and  swept  from  the  room. 

"  Listen  !  I  will  tell  you,  madam ;  come  back,  your 
son  will  say  I  speak  the  truth.  Hear  me —  "  But  Mrs. 
Lyons  had  passed  up-stairs,  and  Marion  heard  the  door 
close  behind  her.  And  then  the  agonized  girl  gave  a 
sharp,  shrill  cry. 

"  Curses  on  you,  curses  on  you  and  yours;  you  hare 


Trouble  in  Keene.  153 

shown  no  mercy,  may  no  mercy  be  shown  to  you,"  and 
wildly  she  reached  the  door,  passed  into  the  street  and 
walked  rapidly  towards  the  home  of  her  friend,  Anna 
Noyes,  a  little  out  of  the  village.  She  shivered  with  the 
cold,  the  sky  was  overcast,  clouds  were  gathering.  She 
saw  the  stage  from  Whitehall  drive  up  to  the  public 
house  on  another  street.  "  I  must  go  for  him,''  she  said 
to  herself.  "  I  am  sure  to  find  him.  I  must  find  him.  I'll 
stay  with  Anna  to-night  and  start  in  the  stage  to-mor 
row."  On  she  went  towards  her  friend's  home,  amidst 
the  shadows  of  coming  night  with  its  portending  storm, 
but  the  shadows  and  storm  were  darkest  in  her  soul. 

Horace  drove  rapidly  towards  Westport,  and  went  at 
once  to  the  public  house.  There  he  found  farmer  Jones. 

"  How  are  you,  Horace?  Where's  your  sister  Marion? 
I  brought  her  into  Westport,  and  she  told  me  to  wait  here 
while  she  did  some  errands.  Time  to  go  home  and  she 
hasn't  come,"  and  farmer  Jones,  who  loved  a  social 
glass,  hiccoughed  a  little  unsteadily. 

Horace  thought  for  a  moment.  "  What  had  I  better 
do?"  he  soliloquized.  Jones  had  evidently  told  all  he 
knew  about  the  matter,  and  to  tell  him  Marion  had  left 
home  without  notice,  when  everything  might  'be  all  right, 
would  start  a  deal  of  gossip  which  it  was  desirable  to 
avoid ;  so  he  concluded  to  act  as  if  he  knew  about  her 
coming. 

"  She's  gone  away,  Jones ;  didn't  she  send  you  word?  " 
and  Horace  advised  him  to  go  home.  Jones  asked  him 
why  he  hadn't  brought  Marion  to  Westport  himself,  and 
said  he  wanted  a  dollar  for  his  trouble,  which  Horace 
paid,  replying  that  he  had  been  busy  in  the  early  after 
noon.  This  accorded  with  Marion's  excuse,  and  Jones 
appeared  satisfied. 

"  She  seemed  in  a  mighty  big  fluster  and  hurry,  I 
thought,"  continued  Jones,  as  Horace  helped  him  into 
the  wagon,  and  he  started  for  home. 

"  She  wished  to  see  some  one  before  she  went  away," 
replied  Horace. 

After  the  tipsy  fellow  had  gone,  Horace  waited  a  little, 
thinking  Marion  might  come  there  as  Jones  had  been  ex- 


154  Love  and  Liberty. 

pecting,  but  waiting  in  vain,  he  at  length  decided  to  call 
at  Mr.  Lyons'  and  see  if  he  could  get  any  clue  to  her 
departure.  His  call  \vas  very  unsatisfactory.  He  found 
that  she  had  been  there,  and,  through  the  servant,  that 
she  desired  Lawrence's  address  in  New  York  which  the 
servant  did  not  know,  and  was  not  sure  that  Marion  had 
secured.  Mrs.  Lyons  declined  to  see  him  and  Mr.  Lyons 
was  not  at  home. 

"  Where  has  she  gone?  "  questioned  Horace  to  himself. 
Suddenly  he  lifted  his  face  and  said,  "  I  have  it,  she's 
gone  to  Anna  Noyes'  home  to  spend  the  night.  -Strange 
I  didn't  think  of  that  before.  Anna  is  her  old  chum  at 
school." 

As  Marion  walked  towards  her  friend's  house,  a  new 
plan  came  into  her  mind.  It  wouldn't  do  for  her  to  stop 
with  Anna  all  night ;  her  people  would  be  sure  to  come 
there  for  her.  About  a  mile  beyond  Anna's  home  was  a 
house  where  perhaps  she  could  stay,  and  it  was  on  the 
direct  stage  route  to  Whitehall.  So,  reluctantly,  she 
passed  the  house  of  her  friend,  and  no  one  saw  her  in  the 
twilight.  She  reached  the  house  in  mind.  The  snow 
was  now  falling  lightly.  Marion  rapped.  A  farmer's 
wife  came  to  the  door.  Marion  was  sure  they  were  not 
known  to  each  other. 

"  Could  you  keep  me  all  night?  I  am  a  long  way  from 
home  and  snow  is  falling."  The  woman  looked  at  her 
curiously. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said.  As  Marion  entered  the  woman 
continued,  "  Which  way  are  you  going?  " 

"  I  desire  to  go  to  Whitehall  in  the  morning  stage," 
was  the  answer. 

"  It  gets  'long  here  'bout  half-past  seven,"  said  the 
woman. 

"  That's  what  I  supposed,"  replied  Marion. 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  can  keep  yer,  though  our  'commo- 
dations  ain't  fust  class ;  they'd  do  better  by  ye  at  the 
tavern  in  the  village." 

"  I'd  rather  stay  here,"  said  Marion. 

The  man  came  in  and  it  was  settled,  Marion  agreeing 
to  pay  for  food  and  lodging.  There  were  several  chil 
dren  in  the  house. 


Trouble  in  Keene.  155 

The  next  morning  the  stage  came  along.  The  snow 
storm  had  been  light,  and  the  morning  was  not  very  bad, 
as  Marion  started  on  her  journey  towards  the  great  city. 

"  Shall  I  find  him  ?  O  God,  have  pity  upon  me.  Help 
me,  help  me,"  she  prayea  in  her  distress. 

When  Horace  reached  Anna's  home,  he  fully  expected 
to  find  his  sister,  but  none  of  them  had  seen  her.  He  was 
bitterly  disappointed,  and  went  again  to  the  tavern,  but 
she  had  not  been  there.  There  were  no  other  places  where 
he  could  think  she  would  go,  and,  sorely  troubled,  he  left 
for  home,  where  he  found  the  family  in  great  distress. 
When  he  had  told  his  story,  the  distress  was  no  less.  They 
discovered  that  Marion  had  changed  her  clothes,  taken 
some  articles  with  her,  and  as  her  wallet  was  missing, 
which  they  knew  contained  considerable  money,  con 
cluded  she  had  taken  that  also.  They  hoped,  as  she  was 
so  well  provided,  that  she  would  at  least  be  outwardly 
comfortable,  and  decided  that  Horace  should  go  to  West- 
port  again  on  the  morrow,  and,  if  possible,  find  her  and 
bring  her  home.  The  next  day  he  was  again  in  the  vil 
lage  ;  he  went  to  two  or  three  places  where  Marion  had 
acquaintances,  but  no  one  had  seen  her  get  on  when  the 
stage  started,  and  no  trace  was  discovered  of  her  at  the 
home  of  Miss  Noyes. 

When  the  stage-driver  returned  two  or  three  days  later, 
it  was  learned  that  a  young  woman,  who  agreed  with 
Marion's  description,  had  gotten  on  at  the  farmhouse 
on  the  road  towards  Whitehall.  Horace  visited  the  place 
and  concluded  in  his  own  mind  it  must  have  been  Marion, 
though  the  people  did  not  know  the  name  of  the  woman 
who  stayed  all  night  with  them. 

"  I  thought  there  was  somethin'  suspicious  'bout  her," 
said  the  woman  who  talked  with  Horace,  "  though  she 
paid  us  well." 

Poor  Horace  returned  disconsolately,  weary  with  his 
fruitless  search.  The  dark  shadows  had  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  once  happy  home. 


156  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

IIOXV    MARION    CAME    HOME. 

MONTHS  went  by  and  no  word  had  been  received  from 
the  beautiful  Marion.  Two  months  after  her  disappear 
ance,  Lawrence  Lyons  returned.  Horace  obtained  an 
interview  with  him,  and  the  young  man  declared  writh  the 
most  solemn  oaths  that  he  had  not  seen  her.  The  Fullers 
did  not  believe  him,  and  yet  they  had  no  evidence  that  he 
was  not  speaking  the  truth.  Marion  had  made  no  sign, 
and  whether  she  was  living  or  dead,  they  did  not  know. 
Their  hearts  were  well-nigh  broken.  It  was  the  month 
of  May ;  the  trees  were  putting  forth  their  buds ;  the 
earlier  flowers  had  begun  to  bloom  in  the  mountain 
valleys.  The  Fullers  attended  to  their  duties  as  usual, 
and  the  spring  farming  was  well  under  way.  Jesse  Fuller 
had  grown  old  and  white  these  last  three  months.  Mrs. 
Fuller  had  a  sad  look  upon  her  comely  face.  Ada  would 
not  be  comforted  for  the  loss  of  her  sister ;  she  could 
only  pray  for  her,  and  Ada's  prayers  were  very  frequent 
and  fervent  for  the  wayward  girl.  The  younger  members 
of  the  family  were  sorry  for  all  the  grief  and  trouble,  but 
if  the  truth  were  known,  were  rather  glad  to  be  freed 
from  Marion's  domineering  ways  and  quick  temper. 
The  disappearance  of  Marion  and  the  subsequent  search 
for  her  had  caused  great  sensation  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  Westport  people  were  shocked.  Some  blamed  her, 
others  blamed  Lawrence,  and  the  matter  had  greatly 
injured  the  popularity  of  the  whole  Lyons  family,  who, 
with  their  aristocratic  ways  and  pro-slaverv  sentiments, 
only  obtained  the  good  will  of  the  community  because 
of  their  large  wealth  and  generous  public  spirit. 

The  Puritan  element  in  Jesse  Fuller  and  his  wife  sus 
tained  them  so  that  they  did  not  wholly  sink  beneath  the 
terrible  sorrow.  They  went  to  church,  and  to  the  village 
as  usual  when  business  demanded  it,  but  only  God  knew 


How  Marion  came  Home.  157 

the  heavy  hearts  which  they  carried.  Mrs.  Fuller  had  not 
been  seen  to  smile  since  Marion's  flight.  One  evening 
after  the  dishes  were  washed,  and  the  usual  work  done, 
the  family  were  sitting  about  the  great  table,  and  Jesse 
was  actually  trying  to  have  a  little  frolic  with  the  younger 
children  over  some  house  game,  a  rare  thing  in  those 
days. 

There  came  a  soft  rap  at  the  door. 

"  Open  the  door,  Gerald,  and  see  who  is  there,"  said 
Jesse. 

Gerald  obeyed  and  there  stood  a  young  woman  with 
pale  face,  hollow  eyes,  and  a  frightened  look.  In  her 
arms  she  carried  a  bundle.  Mrs.  Fuller  said,  "  Walk 
in,  my  friend,  and  take  a  seat."  Ada  gave  a  quick  cry, 
"  Marion ! "  The  figure  in  the  doorway  gasped  faintly 
"Mother!"  and  then  fell  prostrate  upon  the  floor,  the 
bundle  in  her  arms  caught  by  Gerald  as  she  fell.  In 
stantly  all  was  confusion.  "  It's  Marion,"  shouted  the 
younger  children. 

"  Mother,  this  bundle  is  a  baby,"  cried  Gerald. 

"  God  help  us  all,"  groaned  the  father. 

They  lifed  the  unconscious  figure  and  placed  her  upon 
the  bed.  It  required  little  strength  for  them  to  move  the 
emaciated,  shrunken  form.  The  sorrow  of  that  night, 
who  shall  describe?  Marion  had  indeed  returned,  but 
returned  how  ?  The  father's  worst  fears  were  confirmed ; 
the  little  wailing  infant  was  Marion's  own  boy.  Mrs. 
Fuller  at  first  could  scarcely  control  herself.  She  had 
prayed  and  longed  for  Marion's  return,  but  when  the 
truth  burst  upon  her  that  Marion,  her  oldest  daughter, 
so  beautiful,  the  proud,  strong  girl,  had  come  from  her 
months  of  wandering,  bringing  her  shame  with  her,  it 
took  all  her  courage  to  stand  the  blow.  She  had  not 
believed  in  Marion's  guilt,  though  Jesse  had  suspected  it. 

"  O  my  God,"  moaned  she,  "  was  it  for  this  home 
coming  that  I  prayed ;  I  cannot  bear  it ;  we  are  dis 
graced  forever ;  the  child  I  loved  so ;  my  beautiful 
Marion.  Guilt  and  shame,  sorrow  and  misery  are  our 
portion.  O  God,  take  me  hence,  I  can  live  no  longer." 

Then  it  was  that  she  felt  soft  arms  steal  about  her  neck, 
and  words  whispered  in  her  ears. 


158  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Mother,  bear  up  and  be  strong,  we  love  her  still. 
Christ  was  kind  to  worse  than  she.  Marion  has  been 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  Lawrence  wronged 
her  under  promise  of  marriage.  He  is  the  one  to  blame, 
and  if  sister  were  more  to  blame  than  she  is,  she  is  yet 
our  own  dear  Marion.  God  will  forgive  her  and  help 
us  all." 

"  O  Ada,  bless  your  loving  heart,  you  at  least  are 
good  and  true." 

"And,  mother,  Marion  is  very  ill;  do  you  not  see? 
She  is  but  the  shadow  of  her  former  self,  and  the  little- 
innocent  babe  needs  our  care  and  attention." 

"  Ada,  how  can  I  care  for  that  child  which  brings  us 
shame?  " 

''  The  babe  is  innocent,  mother,  and  if  you  wish,  he 
shall  be  my  charge  at  present." 

"  Ada,  clear,  if  I  am  bereft  of  one  daughter,  I  have 
a  double  portion  of  good  in  you." 

"  Hush,  mother,  I  am  not  good,  so  many  wrong 
thoughts  crowd  my  soul.  Be  strong,  my  precious 
mother,"  and  sweet  kisses  fell  upon  the  mother's  face, 
calming  her  troubled  spirit. 

For  many  weeks  Marion  lay  near  to  death,  but  mother's 
nursing  brought  her  safely  through  the  crisis  of  the  fever. 
In  her  ravings  they  discovered  something  of  her  wander 
ings  since  she  had  left  them.  It  appeared  she  had  actually 
found  Lawrence  in  New  York,  and  he  had  partly  prom 
ised  to  marry  her  but  kept  putting  her  off,  and  had  at 
length  gone  home  without  her  knowledge,  leaving  her 
with  scarcely  any  money,  and  no  friends  in  the  great  city, 
to  bear  her  shame  as  best  she  could.  Too  proud  at  first 
to  write  for  funds,  she  had  been  taken  to  one  of  the 
"  Homes  "  of  the  city  for  such  as  she,  and  there,  three 
weeks  before  her  return,  her  babe'  was  born.  Then  it 
was,  believing  that  she  must  soon  die,  that  she  resolved 
to  return  home,  give  her  babe  into  Ada's  care  and  look 
once  more  into  the  face  of  her  kindred.  Pitying  her  sad 
condition,  the  friends  in  the  home  furnished  her  money 
to  return,  with  some  comforts  for  her  journey.  It  was  a 
long  tedious  journey,  but  she  kept  up,  thinking,  "  I  will 
reach  home  and  die.  They  will  forgive  me  when  they 
know  all." 


How  Marion  came  Home.  159 

Ashamed  to  hire  a  conveyance  at  Westport,  she  had 
actually  walked  with  her  child  to  her  father's  house,  and 
reached  it  as  we  have  seen. 

The  facts  had  been  gathered  in  broken  talks  and  mut- 
terings  in  her  delirium,  for  since  she  came  she  had  only 
spoken  one  rational  word  till  the  fever  turned.  Ada  had 
taken  the  little  babe  as  her  special  charge.  One  day  the 
doctor  had  said,  "  The  crisis  is  passed,  she  will  recover." 
"  Mother,"  said  Ada,  "  when  Marion  awakes,  I  will  be 
here  with  the  baby,  the  sight  may  do  her  good."  So  it 
came  about  that  when  Marion,  after  all  her  weeks  of 
delirium,  awoke  to  consciousness,  there  sat  Ada  with  a 
smile  upon  her  face,  and  the  child  in  her  arms,  and  just 
beyond  them  was  her  mother.  Marion  gazed  upon  them 
at  first  without  speaking.  At  length,  in  faint  whisper, 
she  murmured,  "  Where  am  I  ?  " 

"  At  home,  Marion  dear,"  replied  Ada,  softly. 

"What  does  it  mean?     W'hose  baby  is  that?" 

"  It  means  that  you've  been  very  sick,  and  are  getting 
better  and  mustn't  talk ;  we  are  all  so  glad  you're  better." 

Marion  looked  a  while  longer,  but  didn't  seem  to  grasp 
the  situation,  and  sank  again  to  sleep. 

The  next  afternoon  she  awoke  again,  and  there  sat 
Ada  with  the  baby,  Ada's  face  beaming  with  love  and 
kindness. 

"Have  you  had  a  good  sleep?"  questioned  Ada. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  Ada,  is  that  you?  "  continued 
she. 

"  Of  course  it  is  I,  who  else  should  it  be?  " 

"  Ada,  is  that  my  baby?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is,  and  a  fine  little  fellow,  too." 

Marion  began  to  cry. 

"  Hush,  dear,  you  mustn't  cry,  but  get  well  and  strong. 
We  are  all  at  home  and  glad  to  have  you  wkh  us  once 
more.  I'm  going  out  now  and  mother  will  come  in,"  and 
out  went  sister  Ada  with  the  baby. 

"  Mother,"  said  Marion,  "  I  can't  tell  you  all  now,  but 
will  you  and  father  forgive  me  before  I  die  ?  " 

"  You  are  already  forgiven,  my  child,"  was  the 
response,  and  Marion  looked  up  and  smiled  as  she  went 
to  sleep. 


160  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  DUEL. 

"One,  two,  three,  fire!" 

Sharp  rang  the  call  from  the  seconds  on  the  field  of 
honor.  Clear  and  startling  rang  out  two  pistol  shots  at 
the  word  "  fire."  One  man  gave  a  bitter  cry  of  pain,  and 
sank,  bleeding,  to  the  ground.  Another  blew  the  smoke 
from  the  pistol  barrel,  and  exclaimed,  "  My  sister  is 
avenged,"  and  started  with  his  second  from  the  field. 
Two  persons  from  different  directions  came  upon  the 
scene. 

"Horace,  what  have  you  done?"  cried  in  sorrow,  a 
white-haired  man. 

"  Shot  him  like  a  dog  as  he  deserved,"  replied  Horace. 

"  My  son !  Lawrence !  Speak  to  me,"  cried  another 
strong  man,  kneeling  beside  the  bleeding  victim.  No 
word  came  from  the  young  man's  lips. 

"  Speak,  Lawrence,  my  only  son,  hear  your  father ! 
Has  he  killed  him  ?  "  he  asked  the  second. 

"  Pie  is  severely  wounded,  sir,"  was  the  reply ;  "  here 
comes  the  doctor." 

"  Is  he  dead,  doctor?  "  cried  the  father  in  great  agony. 

"  I  think  not,  Mr.  Lyons ;  my  carriage  is  at  the  road 
side,  we  will  carry  him  there."  They  carried  the  uncon 
scious  Lawrence  to  the  carriage  and  took  him  home.  Ere 
they  parted,  Jesse  Fuller  said  to  the  groaning  father, 
'  Mr.  Lyons,  your  son  has  done  a  great  injury  to  my 
daughter  for  which  no  human  recompense  can  atone,  but 
I  wish  to  say  that  this  duel  was  unknown  to  me  till  a  few 
moments  ago,  when  word  was  brought  me  that  my  son 
had  challenged  the  man  who  had  wronged  his  sister.  I 
had  no  part  in  it ;  I  am  a  man  of  peace,  and  do  not 
justify  dueling  under  any  circumstances." 


The  Duel.  161 

"  It  is  well,"  returned  Mr.  Lyons.  "  It  would  seem  that 
your  house  is  indeed  a  curse  to  mine !  " 

"  Go  carefully,  doctor,  he  bleeds  terribly." 

Horace,  his  second,  and  Jesse  went  towards  home. 
'  Two  wrongs,  my  son,  cannot  make  wrong  right." 

"  He  deserved  death,"  replied  Horace :  "  he's  a  sneak 
ing,  contemptible  villain,  and  I  told  him  so  to  his  face. 
He  knew  he  must  reckon  with  me.  He  tried  to  dodge  the 
issue,  but  we  brought  him  to  terms.  God  has  surely 
justified  my  action.  I  am  not  scratched,  Marion  is 
avenged.  Curses  will  rest  on  the  house  of  Lyons  for  the 
trouble  they  have  brought  us." 

"  My  son,"  returned  Jesse,  "  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  I 
will  repay,  saith  the  Lord.' ' 

"  Who  told  you  about  the  matter,  father  ?  We  tried 
to  keep  it  secret." 

"  Abijah  Jones  told  me,  and  it  seems  that  Mr.  Lyons 
heard  of  it  also,  and  got  there  with  a  doctor  just  as  I 
did." 

"  Some  one  must  have  got  hold  of  it  through  Frank 
Hall's  brother,  Lawrence's  second,"  returned  Horace. 

The  news  of  the  duel  spread  like  wildfire  through 
all  that  section.  Even  George  Sweet,  our  colored  friend, 
heard  of  it  that  day  up  in  the  Glens.  Rill  Jenks,  who 
still  hung  around  the  neighborhood,  heard  the  news,  and 
went  home  in  great  glee. 

"  What  yer  think,  Nance,  old  Fuller's  son,  Horace's 
shot  Lawrence  Lyons,  the  fellow  what  ruined  the  purty 
Marion.  Ha !  ha !  Great  times  here,  Nance." 

"  Shot  'im,  Bill,  what  ye  mean?" 

"  Jest  what  I  say,  old  beauty.  Had  a  duel,  they  say, 
and  killed  the  blasted  chap.  Served  'im  right,  too,  eh, 
Nance  ?  " 

"  He's  all  the  child  old  Lyons'  got,  I  hear,"  said  Nance. 
"  Won't  he  smart  over  it?  " 

"  I  reckon  he  will,"  replied  Bill. 

Horace  was  not  really  easy  in  his  conscience  concern 
ing  his  act.     It  was  a  difficult  case  to  reach  with  justice. 
Lawrence  even  refused  to  acknowledge  the  paternity  of 
Marion's  child,  and  acted  in  the  matter  without  a  particle 
ii 


1 62  Love  and  Liberty. 

of  honor.  Horace  at  first  tried  to  reason  him  into  mar 
riage,  but  Lawrence  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  I  challenge  you  to  mortal  combat,"  exclaimed 
Horace. 

"  Challenge  me,  do  you?  Think  I'd  fight  a  man  like 
you?" 

"  Coward,"  cried  Horace,  "  we'll  see  if  you'll  fight." 

A  formal  challenge  was  sent  by  Edgar  Parsons,  a 
young  friend  of  Horace's,  who  would  act  as  second.  Par 
sons  followed  Lawrence  up,  and  though  the  latter  tried 
his  best  to  escape  the  ordeal,  he  could  not  do  it  without 
actually  declining  to  fight,  which  he  knew  would  forever 
brand  him  as  a  coward  among  his  associates.  So  the 
day  was  fixed,  the  ground  selected,  pistols  chosen  and  the 
duel  fought ;  Lawrence  was  shot  through  the  lungs. 
At  first  it  was  thought  he  would  die.  Mrs.  Lyons  was 
like  a  crazy  woman.  Lawrence  was  all  the  child  she  had 
left.  The  bitter  cry  of  Marion,  months  before,  kept 
ringing  in  her  ears.  "  Curses  on  yon,  cnrscs  on  you  and 
yours;  you  have  shoi^n  no  mercy,  may  no  mercy  be  shoicn 
yon! " 

Over  and  over  again  the  dismal  cry  sounded  in  her  ears. 
It  was  the  knell  of  doom  to  her  soul.  Like  one  insane, 
she  walked  through  her  finely  furnished  rooms,  hearing 
the  awful  cry  sounding  through  the  house. 

For  a  whole  month,  Lawrence  lay  in  a  critical  condi 
tion,  then  slowly  began  to  mend.  He  had  several  re 
lapses.  When  he  would  attempt  to  get  up,  his  lungs 
would  begin  to  bleed  afresh.  His  mother  watched  his 
sufferings  with  a  heart  full  of  love,  and  also  full  of  sor 
row.  Mr.  Lyons  was  greatly  broken  under  the  strain. 
Lawrence  was  his  all.  His  hopes  and  prospects  centered 
in  him ;  now  nearly  all  hopes  were  blasted.  In  his  soul 
he  returned  Marion's  curses  on  her  and  her  family,  with 
interest,  though  they  knew  it  not.  P>ut  he  could  find  little 
fault  with  the  matter.  It  was  an  honorable  duel,  so  far 
as  honor  goes  with  duels.  The  cause  in  the  mind  of 
Horace  was  justifiable,  and  no  one  doubted  who  was  the 
father  of  Marion's  child.  Sympathy  was  all  with  the 
Fullers,  and  Mr.  Lyons  tried  to  bear  his  burden  as  well 
as  his  irreligious  and  turbulent  nature  would  allow. 


The  Duel.  163 

Horace  was  told  by  Parsons,  his  second,  that  he  must 
leave  Keene  for  a  time,  or  he  surely  would  be  arrested. 
Horace  at  first  refused,  but  hearing  that  an  arrest  was 
actually  contemplated,  went  away,  no  one  except  Parsons 
knew  whither.  He  was  gone  for  some  time  when  his 
friend  wrote  him  that  Lyons  would  make  no  complaint, 
as  the  family  wished  the  affair  to  be  quieted  as  soon  as 
possible.  Lawrence  was  recovering  and  the  officers  would 
not  prosecute.  Horace  in  due  time  returned  home,  and 
really  breathed  freer  when  it  was  announced  that 
Lawrence  would  recover.  The  thought  of  having  a 
human  being's  blood  on  his  hands  made  him  uneasy, 
however  great  the  injury  had  been  to  his  family. 

And  Marion,  the  cause  of  so  much  suffering  and  pain ! 
Gradually  but  slowly  she  crept  back  to  health  and 
strength.  Her  boy  was  both  a  pain  and  a  comfort.  He 
was  the  sign  of  her  shame,  but  the  mother  heart  in  her 
could  not  be  repressed.  Ada  cared  for  him  as  tenderly 
and  carefully  as  if  he  were  her  own,  and  lavished  her 
love  upon  his  mother  till  Marion  would  fain  hide  herself 
from  such  great  kindness. 

When  she  knew  about  the  duel,  Marion  was  much 
shocked,  but  all  love  she  formerly  had  for  Lawrence 
appeared  to  be  gone,  and  she  was  glad  Horace  had 
escaped  all  injury. 

One  year  after  Marion's  return  things  moved  on  much 
as  of  yore  at  the  Fullers'  home,  only  Marion  scarcely  ever 
went  from  home,  and  baby  Ray  added  both  care  and  joy 
to  her  broken  life. 


164  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    DEVELOPMENT    OF    THE    STRUGGLE. 

"  GOING  to  vote  for  Buchanan,  Mr.  Fuller?  " 

"  I  consider  that  question  an  insult  to  an  Abolitionist, 
Mr.  Pierce/'  replied  James. 

"  You're  mighty  easily  insulted,"  snapped  Pierce ; 
"  Buchanan's  an  able  man,  sir." 

"  Able  or  not,  he's  a  sympathizer  with  slavery,  and  all 
the  cruelties  and  wickedness  growing  out  of  the  system. 
How  any  man  \vith  a  spark  of  humanity  in  him  can  favor 
him  for  the  Presidency,  I  cannot  see,"  responded  James. 

This  conversation  took  place  in  the  home  of  James 
Fuller,  during  the  summer  of  1856.  Mr.  Pierce  had  called 
one  evening  on  a  business  matter.  He  was  well  known  as 
one  of  tl  e  Northern  "  Copperheads,"  whose  principles 
and  apologies  James  detested.  Tom  Smith,  as  it  hap 
pened,  was  visiting  James,  and  when  the  latter  declared 
his  opinion,  spoke  out. 

"  r>}'  Rum>  Jini>  you're  as  hot-headed  as  ever  on  the 
Abolition  question." 

"  It's  just  as  wicked  as  ever  to  enslave  our  brothers," 
answered  James,  "  and  the  struggle  for  liberty  is  getting 
more  and  more  involved." 

'  The  founders  of  the  government  believed  in  slavery 
and  recognized  it  in  tne  Constitution,"  said  Pierce. 

"  Partly  true,"  returned  James,  "  but  they  probably 
expected  its  gradual  extinction ;  instead  of  that,  it  has 
gradually  increased  and  extended  its  power.  It's  a 
doomed  institution,  however.  Laws  for  gradual  emanci 
pation  in  the  North  were  passed  and  executed,  but  the 
stimulus  to  the  cotton  trade  by  Whitney's  invention  of 
the  cotton-gin  put  off  emancipation  in  the  South.  The 
two  sections  have  always  been  opposed  on  the  question." 

"  Yes,  and  always  will  be,"  said  Pierce.  "  The  South, 
however,  has  rights  in  this  matter  and  you'll  find  it  out, 


The  Development  of  the  Struggle.      165 

too.  Henry  Clay  fixed  up  the  '  Missouri  Compromise ' 
in  good  shape." 

"  Henry  Clay  meant  well  enough,  but  no  compromise 
will  ever  settle  the  question,"  returned  James.  "  John 
Quincy  Adams  declared  that  '  the  bargain  between  free 
dom  and  slavery  in  the  Constitution  is  morally  and  polit 
ically  vicious,  inconsistent  with  the  principles  on  which 
alone  our  Revolution  could  be  justified." 

"  John  Quincy  Adams'  election  was  a  bargain,  Fuller ; 
everybody  knows  that." 

"  Bargain  or  no  bargain,  he  was  one  of  the  grandest 
men  who  ever  occupied  the  Presidential  chair,  "exclaimed 
James. 

"  Jim,  old  boy,  get  on  to  something  else.  These  Abo 
lition  matters  ain't  the  only  thing  a-going,"  spoke  up 
Tom. 

"  It's  the  most  important  thing,"  replied  James.  "  The 
liberty  of  men  ought  to  be  of  importance  enough  to 
awaken  even  Tom  Smith  a  little." 

"  Well,  of  course  I'm  interested  in  a  way,"  said  Tom, 
"  but  it's  life  and  death  with  you,  old  boy ;  you're  too 
all-fired  serious  over  the  matter." 

"  Andrew  Jackson  was  the  man,"  cried  Pierce. 

"  Jackson !  "  echoed  James.  '  The  man  who  extended 
the  spoils  system,  and  got  mad  and  swore  like  a  pirate." 

"Didn't  he  stop  South  Carolina  from  seceding?" 
responded  Pierce ;  "  and  accused  Calhoun  of  treason, 
declaring  to  the  end  of  his  days  he  was  sorry  that  he 
didn't  try  him  for  a  traitor?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Jackson  had  some  good  traits,  I'll  admit. 
He  told  a  friend  that  the  tariff  was  only  a  pretext  for 
nullification,  the  next  pretext  would  be  the  slavery  or 
negro  question." 

"  By  gum,  Jim,  there  was  one  thing  about  Old  Hick 
ory  that  was  mighty  good  which  I  came  across  the  other 
day.  Somebody  reported  to  him  that  Union  men  were  not 
safe  in  Charleston,  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet  shouting, 
'  The  lives  of  Union  men  not  safe  while  Andrew  Jackson 
is  President !  Go  back  to  Charleston  and  tell  the  nnllifiers 
that  if  a  hair  on  the  head  of  a  Union  man  is  harmed, 
that  moment  I  order  General  Coffee  to  march  on  Caro- 


i66  Love  and  Liberty. 

lina  with  fifty  thousand  troops ;  and  if  that  doesn't  settle 
the  business,  tell  them  by  the  Eternal,  I'll  take  the  field 
myself  with  fifty  thousand  more.'  Ha !  ha !  "  and  Tom 
sat  hack  in  his  chair  and  looked  so  happy  and  wise  that 
James  burst  out, 

"  Tom  Smith,  how  in  the  world  did  you  ever  remember 
that?  I'm  blessed  if  I  ever  gave  you  credit  for  such  pos 
sibilities.  Twas  a  pretty  rich  thing  for  Jackson  to  say, 
anyway." 

"  Jim  Fuller,  you  never  did  give  me  credit  for  half 
my  ability,"  laughed  Tom. 

Mr.  Pierce  looked  at  the  two  friends,  and  relaxed  a 
little  himself.  "  Didn't  the  government  do  a  big  thing 
with  the  Mexican  war?  "  said  he. 

"  That  was  an  outrage  on  humanity,"  replied  James. 
'  The  annexation  of  Texas  was  a  most  unrighteous 
scheme,  all  done  in  the  interest  of  slavery,  and  it  brought 
on  the  Mexican  war,  which  never  should  have  occurred." 

"  I  tell  you  the  war  was  all  right,"  said  Pierce  angrily. 
<;  Taylor  and  Scott  are  heroes,  sir.  and  our  soldiers 
fought  gloriously  on  Mexican  battle-fields." 

'  They  were  brave  enough,  for  that  matter,  but  their 
bravery  was  in  a  wrong  cause.  The  whole  scheme  of 
the  Southerners  was  unjustifiable  on  any  moral  grounds. 
It  was  the  most  immortal  political  act  which  the  nation 
has  ever  committed.  The  war  was  carried  on  to  further 
extend  the  accursed  system  of  slavery.  I  tell  you.  Mr. 
Pierce,"  cried  out  James  with  great  emotion,  "  I've  been 
where  I've  seen  the  cruelty,  the  suffering,  the  horrors 
of  the  dreadful  institution.  I've  heard  the  wail  of 
mothers  and  the  cry  of  children,  and  the  curses  of  men. 
I've  known  of  the  sufferings  under  the  lash,  and  the 
track  of  bloodhounds  with  their  fierce  bay,  and  my  soul 
has  been  wrung  at  the  misery  of  it  all.  Don't  tell  me, 
sir,  that  anything,  anything, can  justify  the  enslavement 
of  human  beings  created  in  God's  image.  It's  too  ter 
rible  for  human  hearts  to  bear. 

Pierce  sat  there  scowling,  and  yet  considerably  stirred 
at  Fuller's  vehemence.  He  ventured  one  more  remark. 
"  Daniel  \\  ebster  even  defended  the  Fugitive  slave  law, 
and  he  was  a  great  man." 


The  Development  of  the  Struggle.     167 

But  Pierce  could  not  have  made  a  more  unfortunate 
reference.  James  was  very  indignant  at  Webster's  ac 
tion,  and  nothing  else  could  have  more  thoroughly 
aroused  him. 

"  Daniel  Webster,  sir !  Daniel  Webster  was  a  traitor 
to  the  cause  of  freedom !  A  strange  sight  to  see  that  man 
with  his  great  intellect,  the  mental  giant  of  his  genera 
tion,  the  superb  orator  from  Puritan  Massachusetts, 
whose  early  career  had  been  strong  in  freedom's  cause, 
stand  in  the  United  States  Senate,  and  on  public  plat 
forms,  and  apologize  for  the  Fugitive  slave  law  clause 
of  that  compromise  bill.  Massachusetts  was  humbled  to 
the  dust  by  the  action  of  her  senator,  and  cried  out  in 
grief  and  indignation  against  his  attitude.  He  wanted 
to  be  President,  sir,  and  sold  himself  body  and  soul  to 
the  Devil.  No  wonder  he  died  under  the  strain  of  it  all. 
He  was  made  for  better  things.  He  tried  to  do  an  im 
possible  thing,  Mr.  Pierce.  His  seventh  of  March  speech 
could  not  stop  or  check  the  anti-slavery  sentiment  of 
this  nation.  It  was  a  wild  scheme  in  which  he  was  in 
volved.  The  rights  and  freedom  of  men  will  akvays 
have  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  true  men !  " 

'  The  Devil  take  you,  Fuller !  "  cried  Pierce,  now  red 
with  anger,  "  you're  a  lunatic,  sir,  a  lunatic,  and  \vill 
yet  live  to  hear  the  roll-call  of  slaves  under  the  shadow 
of  Bunker  Hill  monument !  " 

"  God  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  James. 

Pierce  already  had  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  was  open 
ing  the  door,  and  without  another  word,  disappeared  in 
the  darkness. 

"  Jim,  you  used  him  up,"  cried  Tom  ;  "  he  didn't  know 
how  you  disliked  Daniel's  action  or  he  would  never  have 
tackled  you  there !  By  gum,"  he  continued,  "  there 
comes  your  wife  with  her  boy ;  I'll  bet  a  dollar  you've 
woke  him  up  with  your  loud  voice." 

"  James,"  exclaimed  Lucy  as  she  entered,  "  haven't 
you  been  excited?  John  Gardiner  commenced  to  cry, 
yon  talked  so  loud." 

"  Yes.  warmed  up  a  little,"  answered  her  husband, 
"  but  my  soul  is  terribly  stirred,  Lucy,  over  this  question 
of  freedom ;  God  speed  the  right." 


1 68  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  And  right  you  are,  my  dear  husband.  I'm  glad  in 
deed  for  your  love  of  Liberty,"  and  Lucy  looked  proudly 
at  James. 

John  G.  commenced  his  persistent  cry  again,  and  Lucy 
went  from  the  room  saying,  "  There,  Johnny  dear,  don't 
cry,  mother  does  love  him,  so  there !  " 

"  That  boy  has  good  lungs,"  remarked  Tom. 
"•Reckon  he'll  be  a  minister,  a  howling  Methodist 
probably." 


Meanwhile  the  slave  power  strengthened  its  borders, 
and  laughed  at  the  efforts  of  the  friends  of  freedom. 
The  black  man  found  himself  in  the  coils  of  the  serpents ; 
his  enemies  were  bent  upon  his  destruction ;  the  friends 
of  liberty  wrote,  spoke  and  prayed  for  the  overthrow 
of  tyranny  and  oppression.  The  groans,  tears  and 
prayers  of  black  and  white  entered  into  the  ears  of  the 
Lord  of  Sabaoth  who  was  gathering  his  forces  for  the 
death  struggle.  New  voices  were  heard  calling  for 
emancipation,  and  matters  were  beginning  to  ripen  for 
the  coming  terrible  conflict.  Our  friends  in  Glcntown, 
Willard  and  Margaret  Aldrich,  spent  not  a  single  day 
without  prayer  for  the  freedom  of  the  slave,  and  Frank 
Noble,  as  we  have  seen,  despite  the  sneers  of  his 
Southern-born  wife,  had  actually  joined  the  Freesoilers. 
The  scheme  which  he  and  \Yilson  wrought  out  in  the 
election  of  Sumner  is  now  well  known,  and  produced 
results  far  reaching  in  their  consequences ;  and  up  in 
the  Adirondack's,  there  was  a  band  of  friends  whose 
sympathies  and  interests  never  slackened  in  the  cause  of 
the  slave.  Dr.  Channing,  seeing  the  real  situation,  de 
clared,  "  The  free  states  are  guardians  and  essential  sup 
ports  of  slavery;  we  are  jailers  and  constables  o.f  the 
institution."  Yet  the  agitation  started  by  a  few  men 
was  to  develop  until  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  should 
be  revealed.  James  Russell  Lowell  put  it  well : 

"Get  but  the  truth  once  started  and  'tis  like 
A  star  new-born,  that  drops  into  its  place, 
And  which  once  cooling  in  its  placid  round, 
Not  all  the  tumults  of  the  earth  can  shake," 


Seaview.  169 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SEAVIEW. 

"  When  I  was  single,  I  lived  at  my  ease, 
Now  I'm  married,  a  husband  to  please, 
four  small  children  to  maintain, 
O,  how  I  wish  I  was  single  again ! " 

"  WHY,  Sadie  Greene,  you  troublesome  girl ;  why  do 
you  burst  into  the  house  singing  that  abominable  dog 
gerel  ?  I  haven't  four  children,  and  you  are  a  perfect 
plague;  I've  only  two,  and  there's  Charles  Sumner  cry 
ing  as  if  his  heart  would  break,  just  because  you've  woke 
him  up  with  your  dreadful  noise,"  and  Mistress  Lucy 
went  for  her  youngest  boy,  named  by  his  father  after 
the  great  Abolition  senator  in  Washington. 

"  /  woke  him  up  indeed,  Mrs.  Fuller ;  I  heard  him 
crying  before  I  opened  the  door,  and  if  you  haven't  four 
children,  I'll  warrant  you  will  have,  and  two  children  are 
enough  to  drive  a  young  woman  like  you  crazy;  so  I'll 
forgive  your  pettishness,"  and  Miss  Greene  seated  her 
self  in  the  Dest  rocker. 

"  Well,  Sadie,  I'm  awfuly  glad  you  came  in ;  I 
haven't  seen  you  for  an  age,  and  I've  lots  to  tell  you.  In 
the  first  place,  our  son  Samuel  is  coming  to  make  us  a 
visit.  He's  going  on  seventeen  years  old,  and  writes 
lovely  letters  to  his  father.  He's  going  to  stay  two 
weeks.  He's  only  got  two  more  years  to  stay  on  the 
farm  with  his  grandfather  and  uncle,  and  then  the  plan 
is  for  him  to  learn  a  trade ;  but  Samuel  writes  he  wants 
to  go  to  this  boarding  school  and  take  a  full  course,  if 
he  can." 

"  That's  interesting,  and  how  does  he  expect  to  pay 
his  way?"  questioned  the  practical  Sadie. 

"  That's  the  bother,  but  James  has  consented  to  have 


170  Love  and  Liberty. 

him  board  with  us  some  of  the  time  to  help  him.  He 
must  he  a  bright  young  man  by  the  way  he  writes." 

"  Of  course  he's  bright ;  isn't  his  father  your  hus 
band,  and  wasn't  his  mother  one  of  the  best  of  women  as 
I've  often  heard  you  say,  and  didn't  I  tell  you  he  was 
handsome  as  a  picture,  the  day  you  were  married?  " 

"  Well,  he's  coming  next  Monday,  and  then  we'll  all 
see  him." 

"  Mama,  mama,  I'se  hungry,"  piped  a  baby  voice. 

"  Why,  John  Gardiner,  I  fed  you  not  an  hour  ago, 
and  you  can't  be  hungry  yet.  Sadie,  I'm  going  to  lay  the 
baby  in  this  big  rocker  wrapped  up  in  these  quilts ;  he's 
gone  fast  to  sleep  while  we've  been  talking.  I  suppose 
I'll  have  to  get  John  G.  something  to  eat.  He's  the 
greatest  eater  you  ever  saw.  There,  hush,  Charlie  dear," 
and  Mrs.  Fuller  deposited  the  precious  baby  in  the  chair, 
all  covered  with  quilts,  and  went  into  the  kitchen  to  feed 
the  hungry  John.  While  she  was  gone,  the  bell  rang 
at  the  shops,  and  the  men  came  down  the  streets 
to  dinner. 

"  Sadie,  you  must  excuse  me,  I'm  not  ready  with  din 
ner,  and  James  will  be  here  in  a  few  moments,  so  just 
amuse  yourself  while  I  finish." 

"  All  right,  Lou,  don't  you  worry  about  me.  I  came 
over  on  purpose  to  take  dinner  with  you." 

Soon  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  James  Fuller,  look 
ing  as  happy  as  any  man  with  a  good  wife  and  two  fine 
boys  could  look. 

"  Why,  Miss  Greene,  glad  to  see  you  ;  where  have  you 
been  keeping  yourself?" 

"  Oh,  mother's  been  busy,  and  then  I  was  away  in 
Boston  for  two  weeks  this  spring." 

"  What  did  I  hear  about  that  Boston  young  man?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  what  you've  heard  ?  " 

"  Wasn't  there  a  fine  young  man  who  met  you  at 
your  cous;n's  about  the  time  John  Gardiner  was  bom, 
and  T  don't  know  how  many  times  since?  And  what 
about  Xed  Jones?  I  hear  he's  wild  to  marry  you,  and 
can't  get  you  to  consent,  eh,  Sadie?  " 

Now  be  it  known,  that  James  Fuller  was  what  some 
call  an  absent-minded  man;  that  is,  he  would  be  talking 


Seaview.  171 

or  thinking  about  something-,  and  do  things  uncon 
sciously  at  the  time  that  he  was  mentally  engaged.  The 
habit  had  probably  been  contracted  in  his  hermit  life,  and 
he  never  wholly  overcame  it.  He  would  sometimes  hang 
the  water  pail  on  the  chopping  block,  before  he  woke  up 
to  the  fact  that  a  wood  pile  and  a  well  curb  were  not 
exactly  the  same  thing.  On  the  other  hand,  he  wou'd 
sometimes  hang  the  coal  hod  on  the  well  spout,  and  fill 
it  with  water  before  he  came  to  his  senses.  He  had  been 
known  to  come  from  the  grocer's  with  a  package  of 
crockery  and  glassware  in  one  hand,  and  a  package  of 
potatoes  in  the  other.  He  laid  the  package  of  potatoes 
carefully  on  the  china  closet  shelf,  and  emptied  the  china 
and  glass  with  considerable  force  into  the  bottom  of  the 
empty  potato  barrel,  and  only  awoke  to  the  mistake  when 
the  crash  of  glass  and  china  showed  him  his  error. 

As  he  talked  with  Sadie  Greene  about  various  matters, 
he  saw  the  rocking  chair  which  contained  Charles  Sum- 
ner  with  the  heavy  quilts  about  him,  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  rocker  would  be  more  comfortable 
than  the  chair  in  which  he  sat ;  so,  without  realizing 
what  he  was  doing,  or  suspecting  that  the  great  senator's 
namesake  lay  in  that  chair,  he  calmly  took  hold  of  the 
quilts  and  flung  them  on  the  floor.  Just  as  he  was  about 
to  seat  himself  in  the  comfortable  rocker,  Charles  Sum- 
ner  gave  a  masterly  cry,  and  Lucy  appeared  in  the  door 
way  to  say  that  dinner  was  ready.  When  Lucy  took  in 
the  fact  that  her  baby  had  been  thrown  upon  the  floor 
in  this  unceremonious  fashion,  she  dropped  the  glass  dish 
of  jelly  in  her  hand  and  shrieked :  "  Oh,  my  darling 
baby ;  you've  killed  him,  you've  killed  my  baby.  James 
Fuller,  I'll  have  you  arrested,  that  I  will;  to  think  you 
should  do  such  a  terrible  thing !  There,  Charlie,  dear, 
don't  cry  so,"  and  she  clasped  the  baby  boy  close  to  her 
heart  and  nearly  smothered  him  with  kisses.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  James  was  a  little  startled ;  first,  that 
he  had  unwittingly  floored  his  youngest  son,  and  second, 
that  his  beloved  wife  Lucy  should  take  it  to  heart  so 
keenly.  Immediately  he  was  all  penitence,  and  when  it 
was  discovered  that  the  young  man,  owing  to  his  thick 
wrappings,  was  more  frightened  than  hurt,  James  ob- 


i/2  Love  and  Liberty. 

tained  forgiveness  by  making  a  solemn  promise  that  he 
\vould  be  more  careful  in  future. 

The  glass  dish  of  jelly,  however,  had  to  be  disposed 
of  before  they  could  dine. 

"  There's  that  beautiful  preserve  dish  mother  gave  me, 
utterly  ruined,  Mr.  Fuller,  and  that  fine  jelly  you  liked 
so  well,  spoiled,  all  because  of  your  abominable  absent- 
mindedness.  How  do  you  think  we'll  ever  get  ahead 
any  if  you  continue  your  dreadful  ways  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Lucy,"  responded  James,  "  I  didn't  break- 
that  dish,  though  of  course  you  think  I  did,  and  I'll  go 
without  jelly  for  my  sin  for  a  long  while,  though  you 
know  I  like  it  very  much." 

"There,  there,"  spoke  up  Lou,  "say  no  more;  you 
and  Sadie  sit  down  to  dinner  with  John  Gardiner.  I'll 
be  bound  he  is  hungry  again ;  such  an  eater  I  never 
saw." 

Lucy  hugged  Charles  so  close  that  he  commenced  to 
struggle,  and  she  tremblingly  let  up  a  little  on  the  pres 
sure  ;  and  he  looked  up  into  her  face  with  the  sweetest 
smile  you  ever  saw,  at  the  great  relief.  She  stepped 
from  the  room  into  the  pantrv,  and  returned,  to  James' 
amazement,  with  another  dish  of  jelly.  When  he  pro 
tested  that  he  would  eat  none,  she  exclaimed,  "  Why, 
James  Fuller,  do  stop  such  nonsense;  of  course  you'll 
eat  it ;  you  mustn't  mind  what  I  say  when  I'm  excited 
over  my  babies." 

James  wanted  to  get  right  up  from  the  table  and  kiss 
her  ever  so  many  times  right  before  Sadie,  but  just  as 
he  had  concluded  to  risk  the  scandal,  John  Gardiner  sam: 
out,  like  the  veritable  Oliver  Twist  that  he  was,  "  More, 
pa,  more,  pa!"  and  deferring  to  the  young  gentleman's 
wishes,  he  decided  to  save  the  kissing  business  till  he 
and  Lucy  \vere  alone: 

"  About  that  young  man  in  Boston,  Sadie,"  began 
James  again,  "  who  was  he  and  how  often  have  you 
seen  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I've  never  seen  him 
since  that  first  visit  there.  He  was  only  there  on  a  visit 
and  1'ved  out  in  New  \ork  somewhere,  but  I've  heard 
from  him  since,  and  that's  what  I  came  over  to  see  Lou 


Seaview.  173 

about,  and  your  sweet  domestic  relations,  Mr.  Fuller, 
nearly  drove  the  whole  affair  from  my  mind.  Don't  you 
feel  happier  now,  Pater  ?  "  and  the  laughing  girl  looked 
saucily  into  the  eyes  of  Lou's  husband,  for  whom,  what 
ever  her  antics,  she  retained  the  highest  respect. 

"  Ding-a-ling-ling,"  went  the  bell  at  the  shop. 

"  Only  five  minutes,  James ;  you'll  have  to  go  at  once ; 
it's  too  bad,  and  just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  a  good 
time,  too." 

"  I  do  think  shop  bells  are  just  awful,"  sighed  Lou. 

James  hastily  swallowed  his  pie  and  bolted  for  the 
door,  calling  back:  "  Sadie  Green,  I'll  get  even  with  you 
some  time,  see  if  I  don't !  "  and  away  he  went. 

"  Now,  Lou,"  began  Sadie,  "  put  that  baby  "down,  he's 
gone  to  sleep  in  your  arms,  and  we'll  have  a  lovely  time 
over  our  dinner.  Even  Johnny  looks  sleepy." 

"  I  should  think  he  would  be  sleepy  after  all  he's  eaten 
this  day,"  sighed  Lou,  as  she  deposited  the  baby,  this 
time  safely  in  his  cradle. 

"  Here,  John  Gardiner,  lie  down  on  the  lounge  and 
have  a  nice  nap,  my  darling,  while  mama  and  Aunt 
Sadie  have  a  good  chat,"  and  the  loving  mother  kissed 
again  and  again  her  boy,  who  submissively  yielded  to 
her  suggestion,  and  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

"  Now,  Sadie,"  began  Lou,  "  tell  me  all  about  it ;  I 
never  could  get  much  out  of  you  concerning  that  young 
man,  and  don't  even  now  know  his  name.  And  as  for 
Ned  Jones,  he  really  seems  to  love  you  so  much,  I  don't 
know  but  you  would  better  have  him.  He's  developing 
lots  of  good  qualities  which  I  never  suspected  till  re 
cently." 

"  Indeed,  Mrs.  Fuller,  you  are  very  kind." 

"  And  really,  Sadie,  you're  old  enough  to  get  mar 
ried,  as  everybody  knows.  You're  only  four  years 
younger  than  I  am,  and  I  was  no  chicken,  you  know, 
when  James  captured  me." 

"  Positively,  Mrs.  Fuller,  you  are  the  most  compli 
mentary  woman  with  whom  I've  talked." 

"  I  didn't  say  a  word  against  your  looks,  Sadie.  It's 
only  your  age." 


174  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Continue  your  compliments,  Mrs.  F.,  and  I  shall  be 
in  a  most  enviable  state  of  mind." 

'  There,  Sadie  Greene,  you  just  get  off  your  high  horse 
at  once,  and  let's  get  to  business.  How  old  is  the  Bos 
ton-New  York  fellow?" 

"  Cousin  says  he's  about  two  years  older  than  I  am, 
which  you  perceive  makes  him  exceedingly  old." 

"  I  didn't  say  you  were  old,  only  old  enough  to  get 
married." 

"  Really,  Lou,  did  you,  now?" 

"  What  is  his  name?  " 

"  Don't  you  wish  you  knew  ?  " 

"  Please  tell  me,  Sadie." 

"Wait  a  while;  I've  got  to  pay  you  back  somehow 
for  all  your  compliments." 

"  Is  he  handsome?  " 

"  He  was  two  and  a  half  years  ago/' 

"  Is  he  wealthy  ?  " 

"  Cousin  says  he  is  very  wealthy." 

"Good  looking?" 

"  Almost  as  handsome  as  Samuel." 

"  Agreeable  ?  " 

"  Exceedingly  so ;  in  fact  almost  as  agreeable  as  your 
self." 

"  Why,  Sadie  Greene,  I  never  thought  you'd  treat  me 
so." 

"  There,  Lou,  it's  all  made  up,"  and  she  impulsively 
kissed  Mrs.  F.,  in  whose  eyes  the  tears  were  gathering. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  all  but  his  name,  and  it's  just  what 
I  came  over  for.  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  him  in 
Boston,  but  he  was  such  a  handsome,  bewitching  fellow, 
I  did  feel  a  little  flattered  with  his  attentions.  When  I 
came  away,  he  wished  to  know  if  he  might  write  to  me, 
and  finally  I  consented.  We  have  corresponded  about 
once  a  month  ever  since.  He  is  an  elegant  writer,  and 
has  written  the  most  loving  epistles  to  me,  and  in  the 
last  letter  says  he  is  coming  to  Seaview  next  week  to  see 
me.  I  haven't  any  one  to  consult  except  ma  and  you.  I 
don't  hardly  know  whether  I  just  like  his  ways  or  not. 
Sometimes  his  letters  don't  appear  real  genuine,  and 
there's  Ned  Jones,  I've  been  with  him  so  much,  and 


Seaview.  '175 

there's  no  denying  that  he  has  improved,  and  says  he's 
desperately  in  love  with  me,"  and  Miss  Sadie  stopped 
for  breath. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  this  man's  family  or 
business  or  real  character?"  inquired  Lou. 

"  Cousin  Helen  said  the  family  had  wealth  accumu 
lated  formerly  in  the  South,  and  had  settled  in  this  place 
because  the  mother's  health  was  better  in  the  North.  The 
father  had  some  real  estate  business,  and  was  interested 
in  stocks  and  bonds,  and  the  son  assists  him.  I  learn 
that  my  young  man  is  an  only  son  and  only  living 
child." 

"  Ho,  ho,  Miss  Sadie,  got  your  eye  on  money,  haven't 
you?  But  as  for  that  matter,  Ned  Jones  is  well-to-do 
financially." 

"  Lou  Fuller,  I  don't  care  at  all  for  wealth ;  and  as  for 
that,  mother  has  money  enough  for  us  both  for  all  rea 
sonable  demands,  as  you  know." 

"  Of  course  I  know  it,  and  was  only  joking  you ;  and 
yet  a  handsome,  rich,  aristocratic  youth  is  not  to  be  de 
spised,  Miss  Sadie." 

"Would  you  let  him  come?  Ned  will  be  awful  jeal 
ous,  and  I'm  sort  of  afraid  of  this  man,  and  yet  I  want 
to  see  him  again.  He  writes  as  if  he  had  passed  through 
some  dreadful  experience,  and  once  said  he'd  been  very 
close  to  death ;  but  that  was  before  I  knew  him." 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  be  any  harm  for  him  to  come, 
Sadie,  but  be  on  your  guard  if  you  suspect  him  of  any 
crookedness." 

"  I  surely  will,"  replied  Miss  Greene. 


1/6  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE      HAUNTED      HOUSE. 

UP  on  the  boarding-school  avenue  at  Seaview  was  a 
fine  old  building'  of  the  olden  style  somewhat  back  from 
the  street.  People  had  not  lived  in  the  house  for  some 
time,  because  its  reputation  was  unsavory.  It  was  re 
ported  that  the  former  owner,  in  some  mad  fit,  had  killed 
a  man,  and  buried  the  body  on  the  premises,  nobody 
knew  exactly  where,  and  that  the  dead  man's  spirit  in 
habited  the  house,  and  that  ghosts  were  frequently  seen 
there.  The  former  owner  was  now  dead,  and  the  heirs 
to  the  estate  lived  out  of  town,  and  could  by  no  means 
persuade  any  one  to  hire  the  house.  It  is  true  that  sev 
eral  different  persons  at  first  attempted  to  live  there, 
but  speedily  gave  it  up,  as  the  ghosts  were  so  plenty.  It 
formed  a  rendezvous  for  many  romantic  couples  from 
the  Academy  who  affected  no  fear  of  visible  spirits,  and 
also  for  the  braver  couples  who  lived  in  the  village,  who 
did  some  of  their  courting  within  its  questionable  pale. 

One  lovely  summer  evening  a  young  man  and  woman 
passed  within  the  enclosure,  and  finding  no  other  occu 
pants,  seated  themselves  upon  the  back  steps. 

'  This  is  the  haunted  house,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  Indeed?  "  was  the  rejoinder;  "  are  you  not  afraid?  " 

"  Why  should  I  be  afraid  with  a  gentleman  as  es 
cort  ?  " 

"  Well  said,"  was  the  rejoinder,  "  you  need  never  be 
afraid  anywhere  with  me,  for  I  love  you,  and  will  safely 
guard  you." 

"  How  many  other  young  ladies  have  you  told  that 
same  thing?  " 

The  young  man  gave  a  start  which  his  companion  did 
not  fail  to  notice. 

"  You  are  the  first  one !  " 


The  Haunted  House.  177 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe  that?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,  for  it  is  the  truth." 

"  I  fear  you  are  not  a  George  Washington,  sir." 

"  Do  you  doubt  my  word  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  blunt  young  woman,  and  find  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  a  young  man  of  your  position,  age  and  ex 
perience  never  told  any  other  young  lady  that  you  loved 
her." 

"  Well,  perhaps  in  sport,  but  never  in  dead  earnest, 
as  I  do  you.' 

"  You  have  admitted  I  am  right,  kind  sir,  and  how 
many  others  ?  " 

"Why  should  you  question  me  thus,  dear  Sadie?  I 
have  come  hundreds  of  miles  to  look  upon  your  fair 
face  and  form,  and  claim  you  as  my  own.  If  ever  I  have 
loved,  all  such  loves  are  past,  and  you  only  do  I  worship 
and  desire." 

"  Why  should  you  desire  me?  There  are  many  fairer 
and  better  in  your  own  circle  and  acquaintance  in  the 
goodly  Empire  State ;  select  one  of  these." 

"  Your  bewitching  letters  for  two  and  a  half  years 
have  taken  my  heart  by  storm,  fair  Sadie,  and  then  I 
think  I  loved  you  at  the  first  in  Boston.  Will  you  be 
mine?  " 

"  I  really  cannot  answer  you  to-night,  sir." 

And  yet  she  let  him  place  his  arm  about  her  and  draw 
her  close  to  his  heart,  and  tried  to  think  he  was  good 
and  true.  He  even  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  rosy  cheek, 
and  she  did  not  say  him  nay,  which  wasn't  exactly  like 
the  Sadie  Greene  we  have  known ;  but  then  love  and 
courtship  are  such  queer  conditions  that  we  are  not  able 
to  forecast  what  people  will  do  or  allow  to  be  done,  at 
such  times. 

While  engaged  in  this  affectionate  way,  there  suddenly 
emerged  into  the  path  before  them,  under  the  lull  light 
of  the  bright  stars,  a  tall,  white  figure,  hollow-eyed  and 
staring. 

"  A  ghost,"  whispered  Sadie.  "  This  is  the  hour  they 
walk  about,  but  you  will  protect  me,  I  know,  good  sir." 

"  That  I  will,  rest  assured,"  replied  her  escort,  But 
his  voice  trembled  in  spite  of  his  attempted  courage. 

12 


178  Lt)vc  and  Liberty. 

The  figure  raised  his  right  arm,  and  in  a  deep,  sepul 
chral  voice  spoke,  pointing  his  bony  hand  at  the  young 
man:  "  Slavery  is  the  sum  of  all  villainies.  By  it  your 
father  obtained  his  wealth.  The  groaning  bondsman 
paid  in  blood  the  riches  you  call  yours.  Your  heart  is 
black,  black,  black.  Your  forsaken  sweetheart,  vvith 
your  own  son,  spurns  you  from  her  mountain  home. 
The  pistol  shot  from  her  brother's  hand  fell  short  of  its 
intended  purpose,  but  you  bear  in  your  body  the  marks 
of  his  just  anger.  The  wrath  of  God  is  on  you  ;  you  will 
soon  die  and  feel  the  torments  of  hell ;  I  am  sent  to 
warn  this  young  woman.  Fair  lady,  beware ;  you  cher 
ish  a  demon  ;  he  has  broken  many  a  woman's  heart  and 
wrecked  many  lives.  See  him  grow  pale !  Watch  him 
tremble!  Aha!  aha!  A  lost  spirit  will  soon  join  us! 
Remember  Marion;  she  is  your  arcnging  spirit.  Blood, 
blood  is  here !  Another  lost  spirit  going  to  doom !  " 

Sadie  shrieked  in  terror  as  the  figure  slowly  advanced, 
and  placed  his  bony  finger  on  the  young  man's  throat, 
leaving  it  red  with  blood,  and  then  suddenly  vanished 
from  sight,  while  a  chorus  of  voices  from  demon  spirits 
with  fiendish  laughter  echoed  through  the  haunted 
house ! 

Lawrence  Lyons  uttered  a  wild  scream  of  agony. 

"  He  lies !  Believe  him  not.  Let  us  leave  this  ac 
cursed  place ;  Sadie  Greene,  hear  those  demon  yells ! 
Why  did  you  bring  me  here?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Lyons,  something  tells  me  he  spoke  the 
truth.  Why  have  I  been  thus  misled?  U'lio  is 
Marion?  " 

"  Ye  spirits,  beware !  I  spurn  your  warning  and  hate 
your  lying  lips." 

But  he  shivered  from  head  to  foot  with  fear  and  trem 
bling.  They  passed  out  into  the  Avenue,  when  Sadie 
renewed  her  question. 

"  Who  is  Marion?  " 

"  Marion  ?  Marion  ?  I  know  not,"  but  his  face  was 
livid.  He  could  scarcely  walk.  Sadie,  with  all  her  ter 
ror,  was  the  stronger  of  the  two.  They  reached  the 
door. 

"  I  may  come  in?"  he  questioned. 


The  Haunted  House.  179 

"  Not  till  you  answer  my  question  truthfully.  Who  is 
Marion?  " 

At  that  moment  a  convulsion  seized  him ;  the  blood 
spurted  from  his  mouth,  and  he  fell  senseless  upon  the 
walk.  Sadie  summoned  help,  and  he  was  carried  to  his 
room  at  the  public  house.  There  he  was  restored 
to  consciousness,  but  several  hemorrhages  from  the 
wounded  lung  kept  him  a  prisoner  for  many  days.  At 
his  request,  Sadie  went  once  to  see  him,  and  though  he 
positively  declared  that  Marion  was  a  myth,  she  broke 
oft"  all  connection  with  him.  As  soon  as  he  was  able  to 
travel,  he  returned  to  Westport. 

When  Samuel  came  to  Seaview,  he  had  a  royal  wel 
come.  James  and  Lucy  vied  with  each  other  in  causing 
him  to  have  a  pleasant  visit.  Sadie  Greene  was  busy 
with  Mr.  Lyons  part  of  the  time,  but  came  clown  one 
afternoon  and  chatted  with  the  handsome  boy. 

"  How  you  have  grown,  Samuel,"  she  cried. 

"  I'm  taller  than  father  now,"  he  replied. 

James  had  a  day  from  the  shop,  and  showed  him  all 
the  wonders  of  Seaview.  The  boarding-school,  the 
shops,  the  stores  and  charming  walks.  Down  on  the 
beaches  they  went  and  out  for  a  sail,  which  was  all  new 
to  the  farmer  boy. 

'  There's  Judge  Washington,"  said  his  father. 

"  What,  that  colored  man?     Is  he  a  judge?" 

"  That's  what  they  call  him ;  he's  a  policeman,"  an 
swered  James. 

"  He's  got  some  one  with  him.  Who's  that?"  asked 
Samuel. 

As  he  spoke,  the  Judge  passed  them  with  his  grip  on 
a  tall,  gaunt  man,  perhaps  seventy  years  of  age,  evi 
dently  under  the  influence  of  liquor. 

"Who  is  he,  Judge?" 

"  Durned  if  I  know,"  replied  the  Judge ;  "  he's 
drunk,  and  I'm  taking  him  to  the  lock-up." 

"  Why  not  let  him  off,  Judge  ?  He's  an  old  man ;  he 
ought  to  be  at  home.  Doesn't  any  one  know  him?  " 

Something  of  a  crowd  was  gathering,  and  one  sung 
out,  "  Judge  has  got  Old  Ripper." 


180  Love  and  Liberty. 

"Where's  he  live?"  inquired  James. 

"  Haunted  house,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Nobody  lives  in  the  haunted  house,"  said  James. 

"  He  does,"  said  the  boy;  "seen  him  there  myself/' 

By  this  time,  the  man  began  to  realize  that  something 
was  up. 

"  Gi — git  me  ho — home,  Judge." 

"  Where  is  your  home  ?  " 

"  Haunted  house,"  hiccoughed  the  man. 

"  How'd  you  come  to  git  drunk  ?  " 

"  Go — got  dow-down  too  much  ru-rum — he,  he,  ha, 
ha."  Then  his  eyes  fell  on  James.  "  Who  be  you — 
you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  name  is  Fuller,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Fuller?" 

"  Yes,  James  Fuller." 

"  Where'd  yo — you  come  from?" 

"  It's  no  secret ;  I  came  from  W'ilksville  first ;  that's 
my  native  place." 

"Wilksville?" 

"  Yes,  what's  your  name?  " 

"  Old  Ripper." 

"  That  isn't  your  real  name." 

"  Yes,  'tis,  re — real  name." 

The  man  began  to  get  sober. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  James  to  the  Judge.  "  Some 
thing  draws  me  to  this  man.  I'll  see  he  gets  home  all 
right." 

"  Very  well,"  snarled  the  Judge.  "  Have  it  yer  own 
way,"  and  he  gave  him  over  to  James. 

"  Who's  he  ?  "  pointing  to  Samuel. 

"  That's  my  son  Samuel.  We're  just  going  up  to  the 
haunted  house,  and  if  you  live  there,  we'll  go  along  with 
you." 

"All  right,  Boss,  just  as  you  say;  you're  steadier 
than  me.  Ha,  ha !  "  , 

Most  men  would  not  have  relished  walking  Seaview 
by  the  side  of  a  drunken  man,  especially  with  Samuel, 
but  no  thought  of  incongruity  entered  the  mind  of 
James.  After  a  while  they  reached  the  haunted  house, 
and  sure  enough,  the  man  occupied  one  of  the  lower 


The  Haunted  House.  181 

rooms,  rent  free.  There  were  white  sheets  in  plenty, 
some  red  ink,  which  evidently  answered  for  blood,  some 
shrieking'  horns  and  trumpets,  bells  and  various  ghost 
paraphernalia. 

"  It's  easy  enough  to  understand  about  ghosts  now," 
James  said  to  Samuel. 

"  So  I  should  think,"  was  the  reply. 

The  man  evidently  lived  alone,  unless  at  times  he  had 
some  boys  to  assist  him  in  keeping  up  the  reputation  of 
the  house,  which  was  indicated  by  certain  small  white 
suits  and  trumpets.  They  could  not  get  the  man  to  tell 
his  name.  He  constantly  replied  that  his  name  was 
"  Old  Ripper."  James  steeped  him  some  tea  and  made 
him  as  comfortable  as  the  place  would  permit.  Just 
as  he  was  about  to  depart,  he  saw  something  fluttering 
on  the  floor  which  made  him  start.  It  was  a  letter  with 
his  mother's  signature! 


1 82  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE    MYSTERIOUS    LETTER. 

WHEN  James  Fuller  saw  his  mother's  signature  to 
that  letter  in  the  haunted  house,  he  could  scarcely  be 
lieve  the  evidence  of  his  eyes.  Yet,  there  was  the  name, 
"  Elizabeth  Fuller,"  in  his  mother's  handwriting-  which 
he  remembered  so  well.  Considering  the  circumstances, 
he  thought  it  no  harm  or  wrong  to  slip  the  letter  into 
his  pocket,  as  it  might  contain  something  of  importance 
to  himself.  When  he  reached  home,  he  went  by  himself 
and  carefully  perused  the  contents. 

"  MY  DEAR  GILBERT  : 

"  I  write  this  to  try  and  persuade  you  to  return  to 
me  and  your  boy  James.  It  is  a  sad  condition  in  which 
you  have  left  us.  I  have  given  up  everything  for  you, 
and  do  not  deserve  such  treatment  at  your  hands..  We 
have  scarcely  any  money,  and  were  it  not  for  the  kind 
ness  of  friends,  would  have  suffered  «badly  this  cold 
winter.  James  is  now  three  years  old.  I  am  able  to 
earn  but  little,  and  what  shall  I  do  for  myself  and  boy? 
He  is  a  bright,  pretty  fellow  as  ever  was.  His  eyes 
are  a  beautiful  blue  and  very  expressive.  What  shall  I 
tell  him  about  his  father?  How  cruel  of  you  to  leave 
me,  and  for  one  who  will  never  care  for  you  as  I  have 
done ;  I  have  obeyed  your  slightest  wish  the  best  I  could. 
The  older  children  are  now  provided  for,  but  wee  James 
and  I  are  together,  and  need  his  father,  our  rightful  pro 
tector.  Come  home,  dear  Gil ;  don't  leave  me  to  bear  all 
my  burdens  alone,  and  perhaps  to  starve.  Have  you  no 
mercy  left  in  your  heart?  Have  I  not  been  faithful  to 
you  ?  God  knows  I  have.  Come  home  and  be  a  good 
man  for  my  sake  and  the  baby's,  and  the  past  shall  all 
be  forgotten. 

"  Yours  lovingly, 

"  ELIZABETH   FULLER." 


The  Mysterious  Letter.  183 

James  read  it  over  and  over.  He  seemed  like  one  in 
a  dream.  Here  was  a  voice  from  the  dead.  His  mother's 
letter  to  his  erring  father,  who  had  forsaken  them  for 
some  one  else,  as  the  letter  plainly  indicated.  What  did 
it  all  mean  ?  Was  that  miserable,  drunken,  hollow-eyed 
man  in  the  haunted  house  his  father?  He  remembered 
how  the  man  had  fixed  his  drunken  gaze  upon  him,  and 
how  he  had  started  as  James  told  his  name.  "  Fuller?  " 
he  had  repeated  in  startled  tones.  And  yet  it  might  be 
that  this  letter  had  come  into  this  man's  hands  from  his 
father,  whom  he  had  known.  How  mysterious,  and  that 
he  should  find  it,  and  Samuel  with  him  at  the  time ! 
And  if  that  man  were  his  father,  what  should  he  do? 
"  I  pray  he  may  not  be  my  father,"  sighed  James.  He 
called  his  boy  into  the  room. 

"  Samuel,  you  noticed  the  letter  I  found  in  the 
haunted  house?  Read  it."  Samuel  read  it,  and  looked 
up  in  amazement.  The  letter  was  yellow,  some  of  the 
writing  only  faintly  seen,  yet  there  was  no  mistaking 
the  message  written  more  than  forty  years  before.  The 
signature  was  plainest  of  all. 

"  Was  this  written  by  Grandmother  Fuller  ?  "  asked 
Samuel. 

"  So  it  appears,"  answered  his  father. 

"  Does  it  mean  that  '  Old  Ripper  '  is  thy  father?  " 

"  It  may  mean  that,  my  boy.  I  cannot  yet  tell.  There 
is  a  possibility  that  the  letter  has  in  some  way  come  into 
his  possession  from  my  father.  We  may  discover  later." 

"  It  will  be  dreadful,"  exclaimed  Samuel,  "  if  he 
should  prove  to  be  thy  father." 

"  If  he  is,  I  think  it  will  be  my  duty  to  care  for,  him," 
replied  James. 

"  What  would  thee  do  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  know  not  what,  my  son.  God  will  make  things 
clear  to  me  if  the  relationship  is  proven  to  exist; 
meanwhile,  do  not  mention  the  matter  to  others.  I  will 
let  thee  know  later  what  the  developments  are." 

Another  burden  was  now  added  to  the  mind  of  James. 
I  am  sure  our  readers  are  sorry  for  him,  but  a  strong 
sense  of  duty  made  him  follow  up  this  clue.  A  few  days 
later  he  visited  again  the  haunted  house  alone,  and  after 


184  Love  and  Liberty. 

some  effort,   succeeded  in  getting  admitted  to  the  old 
man's  room. 

"  I  have  come  to  ascertain  your  name,  my  friend," 
said  James. 

"**  I  told  you  before,"  answered  his  visitor,  looking  at 
him  with  a  strange  interest. 

"  You  did  not  tell  your  real  name,  sir,  and  I  would 
know  it.  Were  you  the  husband  of  Elizabeth  Fuller?" 

The  man  gazed  at  James  in  great  astonishment,  and 
shrieked  out,  "Why  do  you  ask  that?  What  do  you 
know  of  Elizabeth  Fuller?" 

"  She  was  my  mother,  and  are  you  my  father,  Gil 
bert?" 

"  Madman,  of  whom  are  you  talking?  What  is  it  you 
are  saying?  Elizabeth  Fuller  is  dead  years  and  years 
ago.  Are  you  her  son  ?  " 

"  I  am  James  Fuller,  born  in  Wilksville  in  1811  ;  my 
father  soon  afterward  ran  away  from  home  and  left  me 
and  my  mother  to  the  mercies  of  friends  whom  God 
raised  up  for  us.  She  struggled  on  working  the  best 
she  could  for  nearly  twenty  years,  then  died,  leaving 
a  message  for  my  father,  if  I  ever  found  him.  '  Tell 
your  father  I  died  praying  for  him.  I  forgive  him,  even 
as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven.' ' 

The  old  man's  face  was  a  study ;  the  muscles  twitched 
nervously ;  the  eyes  began  to  flow  ;  the  man  gazed  upon 
James  like  one  looking  upon  the  face  of  the  dead. 

"  O  God  pity  me !  pity  me !  "  he  cried.  "  Why  did  I 
leave  her  to  live  and  die  alone?  My  sins  have  found  me 
out.  I  have  broken  her  heart ;  I  was  a  godless  wretch  ; 
I  have  merited  all  I  have  suffered.  O  what  a  broken  life, 
what  misery  have  I  known  ;  how  dark  it  is.  Lizzie,  my 
dear,  I  am  here.  Don't  you  know  me,  your  own  Gilbert  ? 
Yes,  I  ran  away,  you  know  with  whom.  We  lived  a 
terrible  life ;  I  longed  for  you ;  I  couldn't  go  back ; 
don't  you  know  it  wouldn't  do?  Lizzie,  my  darling, 
darling!  See  the  devils  there,  ha,  ha!  Look  out,  they're 
after  me.  Hell  has  come,  hold  them  back.  James  has 
come.  James  !  don't  you  hear  ?  O  horrors  !  murder ! 
O  what  pain !  Stand  back  there !  Mercy,  O  God ! 
mercy,  do  ye  hear?  I  call  for  mercy.  Hear  those  de- 


The  Mysterious  Letter.  185 

mpns    laugh!     Back,    I    say,    ye    devils,    I'll    find    her. 
Lizzie  !  where  are  you  ?    James  has  come  for  me !  " 

The  old  man  fell  from  his  chair  to  the  floor.  James 
picked  him  up  and  laid  him  tenderly  on  the  bed.  He 
bathed  his  brow  and  gave  him  hot  drinks,  and  as  soon  as 
he  deemed  it  safe,  went  for  a  physician.  When  they 
returned,  the  old  man  was  raving  again.  They  could 
scarcely  hold  him  on  the  bed. 

"  We  must  have  a  strong  man  nurse.  He  is  attacked 
with  typhoid  fever,  the  result  of  exposure,  and  probably 
drink.  It  will  be  a  hard  case,  sir.  What  did  you  say 
his  name  is  ?  " 

"  Gilbert,  he  calls  himself,"  replied  James. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  be  here,  Mr.  Fuller  ?  " 

"  I  had  met  him  a  few  days  ago,  and  came  to  see  how 
he  was,"  returned  James  evasively. 

"  Walter  Scott,  the  nurse,  would  be  just  the  man  to 
care  for  him,  but  it  will  cost  something." 

"  I  will  see  that  the  expense  is  met,"  replied  James. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  send  him  here.  What  are  all  these 
sheets  and  trumpets  and  bells  for  ?  " 

'  You  know  the  reputation  of  the  house,  doctor,  and 
can  probably  account  now  for  some  of  the  ghost 
stories." 

"  Sure  enough,  and  this  is  the  ghost  that  has  fright 
ened  so  many  people.  Well,  well,  I  wonder  how  long 
he  has  lived  here.  I  did  not  suppose  any  one  inhabited 
the  house." 

"  Very  little  is  known  about  him  or  his  actions,  so  far 
as  I  can  learn,"  replied  James. 

The  doctor  departed,  and  soon  afterward,  Walter 
Scott,  the  nurse,  came  and  assumed  his  duties.  James 
promised  to  remunerate  him  for  his  services,  telling" 
him  to  spare  no  pains  to  make  the  man  comfortable. 
As  he  went  away,  James  heard  Gilbert  in  one  of  his 
paroxysms,  raving  furiously.  Three  weeks  the  fever 
ran  its  course.  Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  James  did 
not  visit  this  man  whom  he  was  convinced  was  his 
father.  He  ministered  to  his  necessities,  provided  all 
needed  nourishment,  medicines  and  the  doctor.  Paid  the 
nurse  weekly,  relieving  him  many  nights,  so  that  Scott 


1 86  Love  and  Liberty. 

could  secure  some  undisturbed  sleep.  He  had  not  yet 
told  Lucy  about  the  matter.  On  one  excuse  and  another, 
he  absented  himself,  much  to  Lucy's  curiosity  and  amaze 
ment,  but  as  yet  she  could  obtain  no  satisfaction  from 
him  concerning  his  absence.  Samuel  had  returned  to 
the  Grover  homestead,  and  James  promised  to  write 
him  what  the  outcome  would  be.  One  evening,  it  ap 
peared  that  the  fever  had  reached  the  crisis.  James 
was  with  the  patient.  After  one  of  his  periods  of  raving, 
the  old  man  slowly  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  James  sit 
ting  by  his  side. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  he  faintly  whispered. 

"  In  your  own  room,  well  cared  for,"  replied  James. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  James  Fuller,  your  son." 

"My  son?" 

"Yes,  do  you  not  remember?  I  am  Elizabeth  Ful 
ler's  child?  " 

"  I  know  Lizzie ;  I  have  seen  her.  She  forgives  me. 
I  am  your  father.  I  can't  tell — you — pray — for — me — I — 
am — dying — Lizzie," — and  the  old  man  gasped  and  died. 

It  was  a  strange  funeral.  James  provided  for  all, 
and  the  old  man  was  decently  buried.  James  was  the 
only  mourner,  and  all  the  people  wondered  who  knew 
him.  A  small  number  of  people  followed  out  of  curi 
osity  to  the  vilage  cemetery,  where  they  laid  the  wasted 
body  to  rest.  "  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to 
dust,"  read  the  pastor  from  the  burial  service,  and  the 
people  returned  to  their  homes. 

It  was  whispered  about  after  this  that  the  old  man  was 
some  relation  of  Mr.  Fuller's,  who  had  accidentally  been 
discovered  in  this  haunted  house,  and  whom  Mr.  Fuller 
had  carefully  nursed  and  buried  at  his  own  expense. 
While  some  people  were  inclined  to  speak  disparagingly 
of  James  on  this  account,  the  majority  were  loud  in  their 
praises  of  his  conduct,  and  the  church  people  said  in  all 
this  he  had  shown  the  spirit  of  the  Master. 

With  reference  to  the  haunted  house,  there  was  dif 
ference  of  opinion.  Some  said  there  were  after  the 
funeral  more  ghosts  there  than  ever,  and  Judge  Wash 
ington  averred  that  he  had  actually  seen  them  parading 


The  Mysterious  Letter.  187 

one  dark  night  about  the  premises.  Others  said  ail  the 
wonderful  ghosts  stories  about  that  house  .were  now 
explained ;  they  never  believed  there  were  any  disem 
bodied  spirits  in  the  building.  The  town  was  about 
equally  divided  on  the  question,  but  of  one  thing  I  am 
sure,  that  for  many  years  afterward  the  building  was 
still  called  the  haunted  house. 


1 88  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

EXPLANATIONS. 

THE  following  letters  will  explain  some  matters  in 
this  history : 

"  MY  DEAR  SAMUEL  : — 

"  I  now  wfite  thee  about  the  old  man  whom  we  found 
in  the  haunted  house.  He  was  indeed  my  father  and  thy 
grandfather,  as  subsequent  events  have  most  clearly 
proven.  In  the  first  place,  during  his  delirium,  he  ad 
mitted  it  to  he  the  case,  and  talked  about  Wilksville  and 
my  mother,  so  that  there  could  be  little  question  con 
cerning  it.  Then,  before  his  death,  he  told  me  plainly 
that  he  was  my  father  if  I  was  James  Fuller,  born  in 
Wilksville  in  1811,  the  son  of  Elizabeth  Fuller.  After 
the  funeral,  I  searched  the  rooms  he  occupied,  and  found 
letters  and  papers  which  confirmed  the  truth  of  the 
previous  statements.  It  appears  that  he  had  lived  in 
that  house  nearly  ten  years.  He  would  frequently  get 
boys  to  assist  him  with  his  ghostly  operations,  and  I 
judge,  when  he  first  took  possession,  must  have  had  some 
money,  and  it  is  probable  extracted  money  from  those 
who  visited  his  premises  under  questionable  circum 
stances.  There  is  yet  some  mystery,  however,  how  he 
maintained  himself  all  this  time.  By  some  means  not 
quite  clear,  he  had  in  his  possession  a  letter  addressed  to 
me  from  thy  Uncle  Jesse  in  New  York,  giving  an  account 
of  thy  Cousin  Marion's  misfortunes,  through  a  young 
man  named  Lawrence  Lyons,  whose  father  was  formerly 
a  slaveholder  in  the  South.  It  appears  that  this  same 
man  had  become  the  suitor  of  Miss  Sadie  Greene  at  Sea- 
view,  at  the  time  thou  wert  here,  and  my  father  fright 
ened  them  both,  revealing  to  Miss  Greene  the  perfidy  of 
her  would-be  lover.  The  life  of  him  whom  1  must  recog- 


Explanations.  189 

nize  henceforth  as  my  father  had  evidently  been  a  life 
of  sin,  shame  and  misery.  No  need  to  dwell  upon  it 
now.  I  can  only  hope  that  he  died  penitent,  and  that 
God  in  His 'infinite  mercy  has. forgiven  him.  We  buried 
him  in  the  cemetery  here,  and  his  grave  will  be  suitably 
marked. 

"  My  dear  wife  and  babies  are  nicely.  I  had  a  diffi 
cult  task  to  keep  the  secret  from  my  beloved  Lucy,  and 
after  the  death  of  father,  explained  everything  to  her. 
At  first  she  could  scarcely  be  willing  that  I  should  do 
as  I  felt  was  right  in  the  matter,  but  finally  submitted, 
and  helps  me  in  every  way  possible.  Truly  she  is  a  won 
derful  woman. 

"  John  Gardiner  is  growing  handsome  every  day.  I 
am  sorry  to  observe  that  he  has  a  very  quick  temper, 
and  something  of  a  wilful  disposition.  Charles  Sumner, 
I  am  sure,  will  be  a  great  orator.  Already  he  shows 
marks  of  genius,  but  he  is  inclined  to  be  rather  obstinate, 
as  thee  observed  while  here. 

"  I  trust  all  is  well  with  thee,  and  that  thy  dreams  of  a 
better  education  in  the  future  will  be  more  than  real 
ized. 

"  We  send  love  to  all  the  dear  ones.  Write  to  us  often. 
Farewell.  Thy  father, 

"  JAMES   FULLER." 

"  MY  DEAR  BROTHER  JESSE  : — 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  written  to  thee,  or  since 
I  have  heard  from  thee,  if  I  may  except  one  letter; 
that  was  the  letter  relating  to  Marion's  trouble,  which, 
in  a  mysterious  way,  has  very  recently  come  into  my 
hands.  Jesse,  I  have  found  our  father.  He  has  lived 
here  for  years  in  what  was  called  the  haunted  house, 
and  has  recently  died,  and  was  given  a  decent  burial. 
He  lived  a  dreadful  life  since  he  left  our  mother,  as 
various  papers  and  letters  in  his  room  proved.  The 
woman  with  whom  he  ran  away,  I  judge  was  an  aban 
doned  character.  There  was  a  storekeeper  who  suc 
ceeded  Cap'n  Spencer  at  Wilksv'ille,  who  had  formerly 
been  interested  in  her,  and  it  appears  from  some  papers, 
followed  her  up  after  she  went  with  father.  His  name 


i go  Love  and  Liberty. 

was  Paul  Rogers.  One  night  he  was  shot  and  instantly 
killed  in  his  store  at  \Yilksville  by  some  one  never  dis 
covered.  I  tremble  to  write  it,  but  from  certain  letters 
in  my  possession,  it  appears  that  father  did  the  dreadful 
deed  from  jealousy.  I  would  rather  deny  such  a  state 
ment,  if  possible,  but  the  evidence  is  very  strong. 

"  \Yell,  in  some  way,  that  letter  written  to  me  about 
Marion  and  Lawrence  Lyons  came  into  his  possession. 
How  is  a  mystery,  but  its  possession  by  him  gave  oppor 
tunity  to  defeat  the  plans  of  Lyons  with  Miss  Sadie 
Greene  here,  the  most  intimate  friend  of  my  wife.  What 
a  strange  combination  of  circumstances !  The  ghost  of 
the  haunted  house  disclosed  the  wicked  character  of 
Lyons  to  Miss  Greene,  and  saved  her  from  any  evil  re 
sults  of  whatever  intentions  he  may  have  had  concerning 
her.  Surely  our  lives,  brother,  have  been  shadowed 
with  the  sins  of  others.  How  terrible  are  the  results  of 
evil  action ! 

"  I  would  like  to  see  you  all.  Give  my  love  to  Marion 
and  tell  her  not  to  despair ;  there  is  mercy  for  such  as 
she,  and  God  forgives  the  penitent  soul. 

'  Tell  darling  Ada  that  L^ncle  James  often  thinks  of 
her  and  all  her  noble  qualities. 

"  I  am  sorry  Horace  attempted  the  life  of  Lyons  in  a 
duel,  but  he  may  be  thankful  that  he  will  not  have  that 
soul  to  answer  for  in  eternity. 

"  My  heart  has  been  so  full  of  late  that  the  matters 
of  Abolition  have  had  only  slight  attention,  but  my  pray 
ers  for  the  freedom  of  the  slave  ascend  each  day  to  God. 
Our  noble  Charles  Sumner,  I  believe,  will  be  one  of  the 
human  instruments  to  bring  about  the  desired  result. 

"  I  have  two  boys  by  my  beloved  Lucy.  John  Gar 
diner,  aged  about  three  years,  and  Charles  Sumner,  some 
six  months  old. 

"  I  work  in  one  of  the  large  shops  here,  and  have  quite 
a  good  position.  Our  home  is  like  some  blessed  resting 
place  to  weary  me  after  all  the  storms  of  life  to  which 
I  have  been  subjected,  though,  of  course,  there  are  added 
cares  and  burdens  with  the  little  children.  Samuel  is 
now  in  his  seventeenth  year,  a  beautiful  boy,  all  say  who 
know  him. 


Explanations.  191 

"  Jesse,  my  brother,  do  not  let  it  be  so  long  again 
before  thee  writes  to  me. 

"  With  love  to  all,  I  remain  thy  brother, 

"  JAMES  FULLER." 

"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :— 

"  You  have  been  away  from  Seaview  so  long  that  I 
must  write  you  about  some  things  which  have  taken 
place.  James  has  found  in  a  miserable  old  man  who 
lived  in  the  haunted  house  here  his  own  father,  so  he 
thinks.  It's  just  dreadful,  and  in  spite  of  all  I  could 
say,  he  would  pay  all  the  expenses  of  a  long  sickness  and 
also  his  funeral  expenses  (for  the  man  has  died),  and 
went  as  a  mourner  to  the  funeral.  Of  course  it's  just 
about  used  up  all  the  little  money  he  had  saved,  and 
whenever  we'll  save  any  more,  God  only  knows.  Then 
Sadie  Greene's  young  man  from  Boston  proved  to  be  a 
dreadful  wretch  from  New  York  State,  and  Sadie  and 
he  got  frightened  by  a  ghost,  which  brought  out  the 
dreadful  character  of  Mr.  Lyons  (though  he  was  awfully 
rich  and  very  good-looking).  Samuel  has  made  us  a 
good  visit,  and  we  all  love  him  dearly,  but  I  write  es 
pecially  to  tell  you  about  my  darling  boys.  John  Gar 
diner  is  developing  finely.  He  dearly  loves  a  doll,  and 
will  go  to  bed  hugging  his  rag-baby.  In  the  morning, 
when  he  comes  down-stairs,  he  will  inquire  '  Is  Karlie 
(Charles  Sumner)  'sleep?'  I'm  sorry  to  say  he  has  a 
bad  temper  at  times.  -Susie  Belcher,  our  neighbor's  girl, 
plays  with  him  considerable.  She  angered  him  the  other 
day  about  something,  and  he  seized  a  hammer  and  struck 
her  over  the  head.  We  thought  the  child  was  killed, 
and  the  mother  went  nearly  wild,  but  Susie  came  out 
of  it  with  a  big  bruise  on  her  head.  The  other  day 
Johnny  fell  on  to  the  doorstep  and  cut  a  great  gash  in  his 
forehead.  I  was  just  about  scared  to  death,  but  he  seems 
all  right  now,  except  a  terrible  scar,  and  right  where  it 
shows,  too.  I  must  tell  you  what  happened  vesterday. 
His  father  let  him  hold  the  side  of  a  bag  while  James 
poured  in  some  Indian  corn  he  had  bought  for  the  hens. 
Johnny,  after  a  moment,  dropped  the  bag,  and  the  corn 
was  nearly  all  spilled  on  the  ground.  He  commenced 


IQ2  Love  and  Liberty. 

to  jump  up  and  down,  crying'  out,  '  I'se  sick,  I'se  tired, 
1'se  sick,  I'se  tired,'  while  James  was  nearly  convulsed 
with  laughter.  He  is  the  greatest  boy  for  stories  you 
ever  saw.  He'll  sit  by  the  hour  if  his  father  will  tell 
him  stories,  and  even  wake  up  in  the  night  and  ask  for 
them.  When  one  is  finished,  he  calls  out,  '  Tell  me 
'nother;  more,  pa.'  Charles  Sumner  a  little  while  ago 
came  near  being  killed.  James  came  in,  and  in  one  of 
his  absent-minded  moods,  threw  him,  quilts  and  all,  on 
the  floor  with  a  bang.  Didn't  my  heart  go  thump, 
though  ?  I  was  terribly  scared,  but  the  wonder  is  he 
was  hurt  hardly  any.  In  my  fright,  I  dropped  that 
best  preserve  dish  you  gave  me,  and  broke  it  all  to 
pieces. 

"  Last  Tuesday  our  minister  called  to  see  me.  Johnny 
was  in  the  room  all  the  time,  wriggling  and  twisting 
and  squirming,  as  he  always  is  when  I  try  to  have  him 
keep  still. 

"  Mr.  Stewart  said :  '  Mrs.  Fuller,  is  that  boy  ever 
still?' 

"  '  Not  very  often/  said  I,  but  I  was  dreadfully  mor 
tified. 

"  I  hope,  mother  dear,  you  are  well.  I  have  missed 
yon  all  the  year.  You  won't  stay  out  west  much  longer, 
will  you?  I  want  you  to  see  my  darling  children. 

"  Your  loving  daughter, 

"  LUCY." 

"  P.S. — Sadie  Greene  is  actually  engaged  to  Ned 
Jones,  and  they  are  to  be  married  at  Christmas." 


Old  Friends.  193 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

OLD  FRIENDS. 

"  BY  gum,  old  boy,  glad  to  see  you,  no  mistake ;  what's 
the  matter  with  you,  Jim,  you're  getting  round-shoul 
dered  ;  straighten  up,  sir,  straighten  up ;  that's  it,  that's 
it,"  and  Tom  Smith  took  James  by  the  shoulders  and 
gave  him  a  backward  grip  which  made  him  two  inches 
taller. 

"  Tom  Smith,  where  did  you  drop  from?  "  said  James 
as  soon  as  he  could  catch  his  breath.  "  Just  tearing 
glad  to  see  you,  though." 

"  Where  did  I  come  from  ?  Dropped  from  the  moon, 
of  course.  Where  did  you  suppose  ?  " 

"  How  are  the  folks,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Tip  top,  old  boy.  Sue  sent  her  love  to  you,  but  I 
swore  I  wouldn't  give  it.  Jimmie  boy  is  fifteen,  your 
namesake,  you  know,  the  other  four  children,  well." 

"  Other  four?    Have  you  got  five  children,  Tom?  " 

"  Sartin  I  have,  and  the  youngest  is  three  years  old." 

"  Oh,  Tom,  you  are  a  character ;  you're  a  tonic  for  me, 
sure  enough.  Did  you  come  alone?" 

"  Now  you're  talking,  sir.  No,  I  didn't  come  alone. 
Judge  S locum  and  Joe  are  both  here  in  the  village,  and 
we're  going  to  stay  all  night,  by  your  leave." 

"  Glory  halleluiah,"  shouted  James. 

"  That's  it,  tune  up,  my  boy ;  ten  years  younger  now 
than  you  were  ten  minutes  ago.  By  gum,  Jim,  you  ought 
to  live  near  me,  I'd  keep  you  youthful." 

"  I  reckon  you  would,  Tom ;  I  am  growing  old,  and  so 
much  trouble,  you  know." 

"  Trouble !  That's  a  good  one,  with  a  likely  wife  and 
three  rugged  boys,  a  good  job  and  plenty  to  eat. 
Trouble ! — well,  well,  you  ought  to  know  what  I've 
passed  through  the  past  few  years.  First,  my  best  cow 

'3 


194  Love  and  Liberty. 

died,  and  no  insurance  on  her ;  second,  our  dog  Jip  had 
an  epileptic  fit  and  nearly  scared  the  life  out  of  Sue. 
Third,  the  oldest  hen  we  had  dropped  down  dead  with 
out  a  mite  of  warning ;  fourth— 

"Tom,  Tom,  hold  up,  I'll. die  of  laughing,  ha!  ha!" 
and  James  laughed  more  merrily  than  he  had  for  a  year. 
Just  then  came  a  rap  at  the  door. 

"  By  gum,  there's  the  Judge  and  Joe,"  cried  Tom. 
In  they  came  as  James  opened  the  door. 

"  Judge  Slocum,  the  Lord  bless  you ;  never  was  more 
glad  to  see  any  one  in  my  life;  and  Joe,  how  fat  you've 
grown,"  and  James  grasped  his  hand  of  iron. 

"  Right  glad  to  see  you,  James,"  said  the  Judge,  and 
Joe  said,  "  Fat?  Only  weigh  two  hundred  and  ten." 

"  Two  hundred  and  ten !  "  echoed  James ;  "  I  weigh 
a  hundred  and  forty-five." 

"  Yes,  lean  as  a  porcupine  and  more  bristles  than  he," 
said  Tom. 

"  Gentlemen,  be  seated,  be  seated,  all  of  you.  I'll 
speak  to  my  wife.  She'll  be  very  glad  to  see  you.  Ex 
cuse  me  for  a  moment,"  and  James  left  the  room  in 
search  of  Lucy  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Lucy,  my  dear,  Judge  Slocum  and  his  son  Joe,  with 
Tom  Smith,  my  old  friends,  have  come  to  take  supper 
and  spend  the  night." 

"  Take  supper  and  spend  the  night  ?  "  repeated  Lou. 
"James  Fuller,  what  will  I  ever  do?  \Yhy  didn't  they 
send  word  they  were  cominp?  I've  nothing  to  eat  in  the 
house.  John  Gardiner  has  devoured  all  that  bread  we 
had  left  for  dinner ;  Charles  Sumner  has  had  to  fall  back 
on  milk,  and  that's  all  gone.  The  butter  has  given  out. 
I  have  no " 

"  Never  mind,  Lucy,  love,  we'll  manage  supper.  Steep 
some  good  tea,  broil  that  steak  I  bought  for  breakfast, 
and  fry  those  cold  potatoes.  I'll  rush  out  and  get  bread, 
butter  and  milk,  and  be  back  in  a  jiffy.  It's  lucky  the 
children  are  asleep." 

"  This  is  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish,  I  must  say,"  snapped 
Lou. 

"  Xo  fish  about  it,  Lou,  broiled  steak  and  cold  pota 
toes  !  "  and  James  gave  his  wife  a  rousing  kiss  on  her 


Old  Friends.  195 

plump  cheek  which  the  gentlemen  heard  in  the  other 
room,  in  spite  of  their  earnest  conversation.  James 
rushed  into  the  parlor.  "  Gentlemen,  I  must  go  out  for 
a  moment ;  make  yourselves  comfortable.  Here's  the 
Liberator,  Judge.  Tom,  there's  the  daily,  and  Joe,  here's 
last  week's  Agricultural  from  Brother  Jesse  in  New 
York.  Supper'll  be  ready  in  about  twenty  minutes. 
Lou's  awful  glad  to  see  you,  and  I'll  introduce  her  when 
supper's  ready."  And  out  he  went,  as  happy  as  a  ten- 
year-old  boy  with  a  new  present.  He  wasn't  gone  fifteen 
minutes,  and  returned  with  his  arms  full.  Within  the 
twenty  minutes  allowed,  a  fine  steak  broiled  in  Lou's 
best  style,  French  fried  potatoes,  good  baker's  bread,  an 
excellent  pot  of  tea,  with  some  of  Lou's  currant  jelly, 
were  upon  the  table,  with  all  the  auxilaries  to  a  first- 
class  meal. 

"  Lucky  I  had  a  hot  fire,"  muttered  Lou  as  she  placed 
the  last  dish  on  the  table,  "  and  also  that  the  children 
were  asleep.  Now,  James,  I'll  put  on  my  white  apron 
and  be  introduced,"  and  Mistress  Lucy  assumed  her 
most  gracious  air  and  won  all  the  gentlemen's  good  will 
at  the  very  first. 

"  My  wife  is  very  glad  to  have  you  with  us,  gentlemen. 
Tom  here  has  met  her  before  at  our  wedding,  you  know, 
and  once  on  a  visit  since." 

"  Mrs.  Fuller,  that's  the  finest  cup  of  tea  I've  had  for 
many  a  day,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  By  gum,  Jim,  where  do  you  get  such  steak  as  this? 
Slightly  different  from  old  cow  beef  at  the  Wilksville 
store,  eh,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Fuller,"  said  Joe,  "  those  French  fried 
potatoes  are  the  best  I  ever  tasted,  and  this  jel,  madam, 
will  go  ahead  of  any  Bess  Slocum  ever  made." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mistress  Lou,  "  I'm  glad  if 
the  supper  is  all  right.  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  I 
wouldn't  be  able  to  get  anything  for  you  at  first,"  and 
her  cheeks  burned  with  bright  spots,  which  added  greatly 
to  her  always  comely  looks  as  James  thought.  The 
compliments  helped  Mrs.  Fuller  greatly. 

After  supper,  the  gentlemen  went  to  the  cozy  parlor, 
and  Sadie  Greene  happening  in  just  as  they  were  rising 


196  Love  and  Liberty. 

from  the  table,  was  introduced  to  the  Judge  and  Joe. 
She  cleared  away  and  washed  the  dishes  while  Lou  pre 
pared  the  boys  for  the  night.  \Yhen  the  boys  were 
sound  asleep  and  work  all  done,  the  ladies  went  to  the 
parlor  where  the  men  were  in  a  deep  discussion  over 
the  Abolition  question. 

"  How  Charles  Simmer  has  stirred  things  up  with  his 
heroism,"  cried  the  Judge.  "  He's  hit  the  nail  on  the 
head.  He  says,  '  According  to  the  true  spirit  of  the  Con 
stitution,  and  the  sentiments  of  the  fathers,  slavery  can 
find  no  place  under  our  Xational  government ;  that  it 
is  in  every  respect  sectional,  and  in  no  respect  national ; 
that  it  alwavs  depends  on  the  States,  and  never  anywhere 
on  the  Nation  ;  and  that  the  Nation  can  never  by  legis 
lative  or  other  act  impart  to  slavery  any  support  under 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.'  ' 

"  Isn't  he  glorious?  "  said  James.  "  He  declared  him 
self  the  very  first  year  in  the  Senate  against  the 
injustice  of  the  cruel  enactment  for  the  recovery  of  the 
fugitive  slaves." 

"  By  gum,  Jim,  do  you  fellows  still  think  you're  going 
to  free  them  niggers?  "  burst  out  Tom. 

"  Of  course  we'll  free  the  slaves,"  replied  James. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  Judge,  "  it's  about  time  you 
woke  up  to  the  importance  of  this  question." 

"  Slavery  is  sectional;  freedom  is  national;  ring  the 
changes  on  that,"  called  out  Joe.  "  Years  ago,  Joshua 
Giddings  offered  a  resolution  to  that  effect  in  the  House 
of  Representatives,  declaring  that  freedom  was  a  na 
tional  right  and  slavery  only  a  municipal  regulation. 
The  Free  Soil  party  has  declared  the  same  thing,  but 
Charles  Sumner  has  driven  the  nail  home  with  logic 
and  power." 

"  Good  for  you,  give  us  your  hand,  Joe ;  come  clear 
over  haven't  you  ?  "  cried  James. 

"  Clear  over  years  ago,"  replied  Joe.  "  Sumner  has 
arraigned  the  Fugitive  Slave  act  on  nine  counts  as  con 
trary  to  the  Constitution  and  declares  that  slavery  isn't 
named  there." 

"  Yes,"  added  James,  "  and  declared  that  bv  the  Chris 
tian  law  of  Brotherhood,  and  the  Constitution  which  he 


Old  Friends.  197 

has  been  sworn  to  support,  he  is  bound  to  disobey  the  Act. 
He  is  a  new  prophet  of  a  new  dispensation,  and  God 
will  surely  set  His  seal  on  his  masterly  efforts." 

"  And  hear  this,"  cried  the  Judge,  taking  a  clipping 
from  his  pocket,  "this  from  our  American  Demosthenes." 

"  The  implication  of  this  doctrine  will  make  slavery 
on  the  high  seas,  and  under  the  national  flag  impossible ; 
also  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  slavery  will  instant 
ly  cease.  Congress  can  give  no  sanction  to  the  admission 
of  new  slave  states.  Nowhere  under  the  Constitution 
can  the  nation  by  legislation  or  otherwise  support 
slavery,  hunt  slaves  or  hold  property  in  man." 

"  Not  even  Garrison  has  yet  discovered  that  the  nation 
can,  and  must,  make  all  men  free,"  continued  the 
Judge. 

"  When  the  Free  Soil  convention  nominated  James 
P.  Hale  for  President  in  1852,"  said  James,  "  it  adopted 
a  platform  denouncing  all  compromise  on  this  question, 
and  declared  slavery  to  be  a.  '  sin  and  a  crime,'  and  that's 
what  it  is." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  Anthony  Burns  affair 
which  took  place  in  1854?"  asked  Joe. 

"  That  was  terrible,"  responded  James ;  "  I  had  only 
been  here  a  little  while  then.  Even  Seaview  was  shocked 
that  a.  runaway  slave  should  be  delivered  up  to  his 
owner  in  the  New  England  Metropolis." 

"  Wasn't  the  excitement  intense  over  that?"  cried  the 
Judge. 

"  Yes,  it  was,"  answered  James.  '  You  see,  it  at 
tained  unusual  publicity  and  took  place  after  the  North 
began  to  feel  the  first  throbs  of  agitation,  excited  by  the 
repudiation  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  in  that  dreadful 
Kansas-Nebraska  bill." 

"  Surely,"  returned  the  Judge,  "  and  then  I  read  that 
President  Pierce  ordered  the  U.  S.  cutter  Morris  to  take 
him  from  Boston  to  his  life-long  bondage  in  Virginia." 

"  He  did,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  Wendell  Phillips, 
with  the  other  prominent  Abolitionists,  denounced  him  in 
no  mistaken  terms.  How  dreadful,  Judge,  is  the  era  of 
slave-hunting.  How  long  will  it  continue  ?  "  and  James 
gave  a  sigh. 


IQ8  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  By  the  way,  Judge,  I  have  a  poem  which  aopeared 
in  the  Xew  York  Tribune  at  the  time,  which  I'd  like  to 
read  to  you,  if  you  haven't  seen  it." 

"  Shall  be  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  the  answer,  and  James 
went  to  his  l)ook-case  and  returned  with  the  following 
poem,  which  he  read  to  the  little  company  : 

HAIL   TO   THE    STARS    AND    STRIPES. 

"  Hail  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes ! 

The  boastful  flag  all  hail  ! 
The  tyrant  trembles  now, 

And  at  their  sight  grows  pale. 
The  Old  world  groans  in  pain, 

And  turns  her  eyes  to  see 
Beyond  the  Western  Main 

The  emblem  of  the  free. 

"Hail  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes  ! 

Hope  beam  in  every  ray, 
And,  shining  through  the  bars 

Of  gloom,  points  out  the  way. 
The  Old  World  sees  the  light 

That  shall  her  cells  illume 
And,  shrinking  back  to  night 

Oppression  reads  her  doom. 

"  All  hail  the  flaunting  lie  ! 

The  stars  grow  pale  and  dim, 
The  stripes  are  bloody  scars, 

A  lie  the  flaunting  hymn. 
It  shields  the  pirate's  deck 

It  binds  a  man  in  chains: 
It  yokes  the  captain's  neck  ; 

It  wipes  the  bloody  stains. 

"Tear  down  the  flaunting  lie  ! 

Half  mast  the  starry  flag  ! 
Insult  no  sunny  sky 

With  Hate's  polluted  rag. 
Destroy  it  ye  who  can  I 

Deep  sink  it  in  the  waves ! 
It  bears  a  fellow  man 

To  groan  with  fellow  slaves. 

"  Enfurl  the  boasted  lie  ! 

Till  freedom  lives  again, 
To  reign  once  more  in  truth 

Among  untrammeled  men. 
Roll  up  the  starry  sheen 

Conceal  its  bloody  stains; 
For  in  its  folds  are  seen 

The  stamp  of  rusting  chains. 


Old  Friends.  199 

"  Be  bold,  ye  heroes  all  ! 

Spurn,  spurn  the  flaunting  lie 
Till  peace  and  truth  and  love 

Shall  fill  the  bending  sky  ; 
Then  floating  in  the  air, 

O'er  hill  and  dale  and  sea, 
'Twill  stand  forever  fair 

The  emblem  of  the  free. 

"  Good,"  exclaimed  the  Judge.  "  Pretty  hard  on  the 
beautiful  flag,  though.  Yet  our  boast  that  it's  an  emblem 
of  the  free  is  a  lie  so  long  as  men  are  held  by  its  author 
ity  in  chains  and  bondage.  God  help  us,  James.  God 
help  us,  I  say,  to  work  and  pray  till  the  last  fetter  is  torn 
from  the  limbs  of  the  slave." 

"  Judge,"  said  James,  "  I  wanted  to  ask  you  what  you 
thought  about  the  Dred  Scott  case?" 

'  Think  it's  an  interesting  case  from  a  legal  point  of 
view,  and  think  the  slaveholding  power  has  shown  its 
hand  at  last  in  the  whole  transaction.  Judge  Taney  has 
made  himself  infamous  by  his  treatment  of  the  question." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Joe,  "  that  at  first  Dred  was  car 
ried  back  and  forth  between  free  and  slave  states,  that 
his  owner  whipped  him  in  Missouri,  and  he  technically 
brought  suit  for  assault  and  battery." 

"  Well,"  returned  the  Judge,  "  that's  partly  right,  but 
a  slave  suing  in  a  slave  state  for  a  trifling  offense  like  that 
was  a  matter  of  small  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  law 
or  society." 

"  As  I  look  at  the  matter,"  spoke  up  James,  "  all  the 
questions  on  the  subject  of  slavery  are  involved.  The 
rights  of  the  black  man,  the  rights  of  the  slaveholder 
on  free  soil  and  in  the  territories,  the  rights  of  the  states 
and  the  rights  of  the  nation." 

''  That's  it,"  replied  the  Judge ;  "  the  case  has  been 
sent  from  court  to  court  with  various  fortunes,  till  Jus 
tice  Taney  now  says  that  the  Supreme  Court  has  no 
jurisdiction  in  the  matter." 

"  Justice  Curtis  took  exactly  opposite  ground,"  said 
Joe. 

"  Most  assuredly,  and  his  exposition  and  theory  will 
be  the  position  held  by  the  anti-slavery  forces,"  replied 
his  father. 


2oo  Love  and  Liberty. 

"If  this  matter  had  been  publicly  known  before  Bu 
chanan  was  elected,  I  believe  Fremont  would  have  won," 
said  James. 

"  The  decision  was  held  back  for  political  purposes, 
without  doubt,"  replied  the  Judge. 

"  Yes,"  said  James,  "  Justice  Taney  has  denied  to  any 
slave  a  right  to  sue  in  a  United  States  Court.  He  says 
the  slaves  have  no  rights  or  privileges  except  what  the 
government  chooses  to  grant  them." 

"  Well,  James,  when  I  think  of  our  past  history,  I  am 
puzzled  to  decide  whether  law,  humanity  or  history  are 
most  flagrantly  defied  in  Justice  Taney 's  opinion.  He 
deliberately  throws  aside  the  Declaration  of  Independ 
ence,  wherein  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness 
are  proclaimed  to  be  the  rights  of  all  men,  and  claims 
that  the  '  unhappy  black  race  '  was  never  thought  of, 
except  as  property,  when  the  Constitution  was  adopted." 

"  My  friends,  the  times  are  fraught  with  tremendous 
issues.  God  speed  the  right,  is  my  prayer,"  said  James. 

"  By  gum,  Jim,  you  ought  to  be  a  politician  instead  of 
a  machinist.  Why  don't  you  go  in  for  office,  old  boy? 
You'd  knock  the  daylights  out  of  all  of  'em." 

"  You  incorrigible  Tom,"  responded  James, .  "  you 
ought  to  be  a  Methodist  parson,  like  Lou's  here,  instead 
of  a  farmer.  Why  don't  you  start  up  in  the  business?  " 

"  Why  do  you  call  him  my  parson,  Mr.  Fuller?  "  ques 
tioned  Lou.  "  You  go  to  church  more  than  I  do  now, 
with  my  babies." 

"  That  may  be,"  replied  her  husband,  "  nevertheless 
I  am  not  exactly  a  Methodist,  my  dear." 

"  Xed  Jones  says  you're  a  Quaker,"  chimed  in  Miss 
Greene. 

"  Anything  you  like,  my  friends,"  answered  James. 
"  Judge,  I  didn't  think  to  ask  you  if  you  came  to  Seaview 
on  court  business.  Our  Supreme  Court  is  now  in  session, 
I  believe,  though  I  don't  keep  much  run  of  it." 

"  We  have  a  little  interest  at  court,  it's  true,"  replied 
the  Judge,  "  but  I  certainly  should  have  tried  to  get  out 
of  it,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  seeing  you  and  your  family, 
James.  We  all  three  decided  to  come  together  and  take 
you  by  surprise." 


Old  Friends.  201 

"  It's  just  glorious  in  all  of  you,"  was  the  answer. 
"  This  is  a  red-letter  day  for  me." 

It  was  late  that  night  before  they  retired.  They  dis 
cussed  the  startling  news  from  Washington  concerning 
the  matters  which  interested  them  all,  proud  of  those 
senators  and  congressmen  who  stood  out  so  grandly  for 
human  freedom. 


202  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

RACHEL   AND   CLIFFORD. 

"  MAMA,  mama,  see  this  beautiful  book  papa  has  given 
me.  Isn't  it  lovely  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  beautifully  bound  book,  my  Rachel,  but  what 
is  it  about?"  replied  Margaret  to  her  enthusiastic 
daughter. 

'  The  title  is  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  by  Harriet  Beecher 
Stowe,"  said  Miss  Rachel. 

"  Indeed,"  was  the  answer,  "  I'm  glad  you  have  it. 
The  story  is  about  slavery,  and  I  have  heard  most  inter 
esting  accounts  of  the  wonderful  book,"  said  Margaret. 
"  Where  did  you  find  it,  \Yillard?" 

"  At  Brown's  book  store.  The  demand  has  been  so 
great  that  he  has  purchased  a  large  number  of  copies." 

"  Mrs.  Stowe,  I  understand,  is  a  sister  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  the  noted  Brooklyn  preacher,  and  wife  of  Prof. 
Stowe,"  returned  Margaret. 

"  Right  you  are,  my  clear,"  said  Willard. 

"  I  must  begin  it  to-day,"  spoke  up  Rachel.  "  No 
school,  you  know." 

"  Very  well,  my  daughter,  after  dinner,"  was  the  an 
swer. 

It  was  the  year  1856,  and  Rachel  was  fifteen  years 
of  age.  The  passing  years  had  brought  changes  to  our 
Glentown  friends  and  fortune  had  been  favorable  to  Wil 
lard  Aldrich.  He  had  built  him  a  substantial  house  in  a 
desirable  location.  The  pianoforte  of  which  he  dreamed 
adorned  his  well-furnished  parlor,  and  Rachel's  slender 
finders  danced  like  magic  along  the  ivory  keys,  sending  a 
thrill  to  the  father's  heart,  for  he  was  passionately  fond 
of  music. 

Willard  had  served  two  terms  as  selectman  of  the  town 
and  served  in  minor  offices.  He  was  strongly  talked  of 


Rachel  and  Clifford.  203 

for  representative  to  General  Court,  and  it  was  prophe 
sied  that  he  would  be  elected  at  the  next  election,  if  his 
strong  Abolition  principles  did  not  defeat  him. 

Wendell  Phillips  Aldrich  was  now  a  sturdy  boy,  and 
one  other  boy  some  five  years  old,  named  Martin  Luther, 
made  things  lively  in  the  Aldrich  mansion.  Rachel  was 
the  joy  of  that  well-ordered  home.  Of  medium  height, 
dark  brown  hair  which  fell  in  curls  about  her  face,  eyes 
of  hazel,  pink  cheeks  and  ruby  lips ;  a  forehead  broad 
and  full,  "  Rather  too  high  for  a  girl,"  said  her  Aunt 
Ella,  who  was  always  seeking  to  discover  some  flaw  in 
Margaret's  children,  so  Mrs.  Aldrich  thought.  Rachel 
had  her  mother's  dimples,  and  her  face  was  nearly  always 
full  of  sunshine.  A  lithe,  strong  form,  almost  perfect  in 
its  outline,  and  tiny  feet,  she  skipped  along  the  street 
so  pleasantly  that  Glentown  folks,  both  old  and  young, 
declared  she  was  a  fairy  maiden  whom  the  Grecian  gods 
had  sent  among  them.  And  yet,  Miss  Rachel  had  a  will 
of  her  own,  and  how  could  you  expect  it  otherwise  when 
Margaret  was  her  mother?  At  rare  intervals,  she  had 
been  known  to  pout  those  pretty  lips  and  stamp  her  tiny 
feet  in  unaffected  displeasure,  which  Chester  Nye  and 
Clifford  Xoble,  both  fine  young  men,  said  made  her 
prettier  than  ever.  But  why  a  pout  should  add  to  beauty, 
I  do  not  see,  and  Margaret  was  greatly  distressed  at 
every  exhibition  of  finite  frailty.  Those  times  came  so 
seldom,  however,  that  no  alarm  was  awakened,  and 
Rachel  was  the  goddess  who  ruled  the  household,  and 
as  she  grew  older,  to  some  extent,  the  village.  She  had 
completed  all  the  studies  in  the  schools  of  Glentown,  and 
was  now  attending  a  select  school  in  Worcester.  Her 
parents,  a  little  later,  meant  to  send  her  to  a  famous 
boarding-school  of  which  they  had  heard,  but  not  for 
several  years,  they  said,  for  she  was  too  young  to 
go  away  from  home,  and  how  could  they  ever  live  with 
out  her? 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Rachel  ?  I  am  most  happy  to 
see  you." 

The  speaker  was  a  finely  dressed  young  fellow  of 
twenty,  who  called  one  evening  at  the  Aldrich  mansion. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  called,  for  the  home 


204  Love  and  Liberty. 

seemed  to  him  a  kind  of  model,  which  kind  hearts  made 
enchanting,  and  for  some  time  now,  the  little  girl 
whom  he  had  always  known  had  attracted  him  so  strong 
ly  that  she  drew  him  often  to  its  hospitable  doors. 

"  I  am  very  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Noble,"  said  the 
youthful  miss,  with  mock  gravity,  for  she  and  Clifford 
were  the  best  of  friends.  "  Walk  in,  Mr.  Noble,  my 
mother  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Your  mother,  Miss  Rachel,  and  how  about  your 
self?" 

"  Well,"  said  Rachel  demurely,  "  I've  no  particular 
objection  to  seeing  you,  if  you  don't  keep  me  too  long 
from  that  fearful  Latin." 

"  Latin,  is  it  ?  So  Miss  Aldrich  has  actually  begun  to 
study  the  dead  languages?" 

"  Dead,  they  are  indeed,"  replied  the  saucy  miss,  "  and 
Miss  Lyman,  the  preceptress,  says  they're  very  impor 
tant." 

"  Of  course  they  are,  and  when  a  girl  of  fifteen  quotes 
her  teacher  on  the  subject,  young  men  just  ready  to  en 
ter  college  must  accept  their  conclusions,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  Clif — I  mean  Mr.  Noble,  are  you  really  going 
to  college  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Fairy,  didn't  you  believe  me  when 
I  told  you  before?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  meant  it,  but  what  will  we  ever 
do  without  you?  Mama  will  have  no  one  to  dispute  with 
her  over  the  Abolition  movement,  and  papa  thinks  you're 
a  very  fine  young  man,  and  will  miss  your  frequent 
calls." 

"  And  what  about  Rachel  ?  "  said  Clifford.  "  Will 
she  miss  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  will  very  much.  Florence  will 
come  over  sometimes ;  I  have  lots  of  girl  friends,  you 
know,  and  then  there's  Chester  Nye — 

"Chester  Nye  be  hanged!"  ejaculated  Clifford; 
"  what  does  that  young  chap  come  here  for?  " 

"  Why,  to  see  mama,  I  suppose;  he's  a  great  Millerite 
and  talks  with  mama  about  the  Lord's  coming." 

"  Yes.  and  what  does  he  say  to  Rachel  ?  " 

"  What  does  he  say  to  me?    Well,  one  day  he  said  he 


Rachel  and  Clifford.  205 

should  think  it  would  be  dreadful  stupid  to  study  Latin, 
and  as  the  Lord  was  coming,  what  was  the  use?  " 

"What  did  you  say  to  that?" 

"  Reaily,  I  don't  think  I  can  remember,  only  I  told 
him  perhaps  the  Lord  wouldn't  come  so  soon  as  he 
thoueht." 

"  Now,  Fairy,  don't  let  him  come  here  very  often  when 
I'm  gone,  will  you?  '' 

"  Not  let  him  come !  "  exclaimed  Rachel  in  pretended 
astonishment.  "  What  have  I  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  I  rather  think  you  have  everything  to  do  with  it, 
you  saucy  puss." 

"  Oh,  Clif  Noble,  you  talk  to  me  just  as  if  I  was  a 
young  lady,  and  I'm  nothing  but  a  little  schoolgirl." 

"  Schoolgirl  you  are,"  returned  Clifford,  "  and  my 
Fairy  besides." 

"  Your  Fairy?  Not  much,  sir.  I'm  papa's  Fairy  and 
mama's  Posy  Girl." 

"  I'm  going  to  college  to-morrow,  Rachel.  May  I 
write  to  you  ?  " 

"  Write  to  me?  What  would  you  write,  I'd  like  to 
know,  and  where  are  you  going?" 

"  Going  to  Brown  University,  Providence,  and  I'd 
write  all  about  things,  and  tell  you  all  about  my  college 
life." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Noble,  you  don't  wish  to  write  to  me ;  Miss 
Wilkins  is  the  one  you  want ;  she  will  be  dying  to  write 
to  you  ;  she's  twenty-two,  you  recall,  and  says  ever  since 
that  night  you  went  home  from  church  with  her,  she's 
been  delighted  with  you.  I  hard  her  tell  mama ;"  and 
the  saucy  Rachel  looked  into  the  blushing  face  of  Clif 
ford,  with  her  dark  hazel  eyes  dancing  with  merri 
ment. 

"  Puss  Aldrich,  you're  absolutely  bewildering  with 
your  fascinating  ways.  Why  should  I  write  to  Miss 
Wilkins?  Suppose  I  did  go  home  with  her  from 
church  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  she's  near  your  own  age,  and  being  in  the 
millinery  business,  would  have  time  to  reply,  while  my 
Latin  will  take  all  my  time.  Now,  sir,"  continued  Ra 
chel,  without  allowing  Clifford  time  to  reply,  "  I  wish 


206  Love  and  Liberty. 

to  know  if  you've  read  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  by  Airs. 


"  No,  Puss,  bave  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  Puss,  I'm  Rachel,  and  /  think  it's  a  lovely 
name,  good  enough  to  be  called  by,  and  I  hai'c  read  it, 
so  there."  And  Miss  Aldrich  emphasized  her  mixed-tip 
sentences  with  a  wave  of  her  beautiful  hand,  tripping 
across  the  floor  in  such  a  fairy-like  way,  that  Clifford 
Noble's  heart  gave  a  great  thump  of  pleasure.  She  re 
turned  near  him  with  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  in  her  hand, 
saying,  "  Clifford  Noble,  that's  the  best  book  you  ever 
read  ;  it's  all  about  the  slaves ;  papa  gave  it  to  me  on 
my  fifteenth  birthday,  after  my  party,  you  remember. 
It's  just  dreadful  how  they  use  those  slaves  in  the  South. 
They  killed  Uncle  Tom,  and  Eva  died,  and  St.  Clair  got 
wounded,  and  Eliza  ran  across  that  river  on  those  blocks 
of  ice.  That  dreadful  Legree  ought  to  be  hung,  if  I  do 
say  it.  Oh,  you  ought  to  read  about  Topsy  ;  she  was  a 
character,  and  how  they  whipped  and  sold  these  colored 
people.  Think  of  it,  Clif  Noble,  and  you  say  you  be 
lieve  in  slavery,  then  ask  me  to  write  to  you  in  college !  " 
and  the  fair  Rachel,  all  out  of  breath,  stopped  for  a  reply. 

"  I  declare,  Miss  Aldrich,  you're  too  much  for  me ; 
lend  me  the  book,  come  now7." 

"  Lend  you  the  book,  sir !  Not  I ;  go  buy  one  your 
self;  I  can't  spare  this.  Papa  and  mama  haven't  fin 
ished  reading  it." 

At  this  juncture,  other  members  of  the  family  came 
in,  and  the  conversation  became  general.  P>efore  Clif 
ford  left,  Rachel  went  to  the  piano,  and  while  her  skil 
ful  fingers  sent  out  waves  of  music  thrilling  every 
breast,  they  sang  a  hymn  which  told  of  freedom  to  the 
down-trodden  slaves.  Rachel,  however,  made  no  prom 
ise  to  write  to  the  young  man,  who  went  a\vay  disap 
pointed. 


Stirring  Times.  207 


CHAPTER  XLL 

STIRRING     TIMES. 

'  THE  Senate  will  come  to  order.  The  Senator  from 
Massachusetts  has  the  floor." 

It  was  Monday,  May  19,  1856.  The  massive  form  of 
Charles  Sumner  faced  the  Senate  of  the  United  States 
at  the  words  of  the  presiding  officer.  Henry  Wilson 
had  been  elected  the  preceding-  year  to  the  Senate,  and 
Frank  Noble  was  a  member  of  the  House.  It  was  an 
extremely  hot  day,  the  thermometer  standing  at  ninety. 
The  Senate  was  full,  the  galleries  crowded,  lobbies  and 
doorways  were  filled ;  even  the  ante-room  being  opened 
to  ladies  after  their  own  gallery  was  completely  taken. 
All  the  journalists'  desks  were  occupied.  Large  num 
bers  of  the  House  were  present.  Noble,  by  courtesy  of 
Wilson,  had  a  seat  near  his  friend. 

"  Who  are  all  those  men  in  that  section  of  the  gal 
lery  ?  "  asked  Noble. 

"  Those  are  delegates  to  the  Democratic  National  Con 
vention,  soon  to  meet  at  Cincinnati,"  answered  Wilson. 

"  There's  Giddings,"  said   Noble. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Wilson,  "  and  Stephens  is  here,  I 
see." 

"  What  a  crowd,"  said  Noble. 

"  Mr.  President,  I  shall  proceed  to  deliver  an  ad 
dress  on 

The  Crime  Against  Kansas. 

"  First,  its  origin  and  extent ;  second,  the  apologies  for 
the  crime ;  and  third,  the  true  remedy." 

"  The  Southerners  are  mad  to  begin  with,"  whispered 
Wilson  to  his  friend. 


208  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Noble,  "  this  is  an  epochal  day  in 
the  history  of  the  nation." 

Looking  back  upon  that  May  day,  we  see  its  great 
importance.  There  were  violence  and  bloodshed  already 
threatened  in  Kansas.  Douglass'  bill  to  organize  Kansas 
and  Nebraska  as  territories,  with  the  proviso  that  the 
Missouri  Compromise  should  not  apply  to  them,  and  the 
doctrines  of  popular  sovereignty,  had  caused  a  great 
agitation.  The  bill,  however,  became  a  law  in  May,  1854. 
Then  came  tl.  tides  of  emigration  from  the  East  and 
South  to  Kansas,  both  free-state  men  and  pro-slavery 
men  desiring  to  secure  control  of  the  territory.  The 
pro-slavery  men  won  in  the  first  election,  carried  by 
fraud,  the  other  party  declared.  Before  Sumner  had  fin 
ished  his  speech,  word  was  received  that  the  United 
States  marshal  for  Kansas  was  beginning  an  armed  de 
scent  on  Lawrence. 

The  reader  will  recall  the  bitter  animosity  of  those 
days,  and  perceive  that  it  was  an  hour  fraught  with  great 
issues.  The  public  mind  was  at  white  heat ;  feeling  was 
intense  in  Washington,  and  men  of  all  parties  knew 
that  the  terrific  conflict  was  about  to  be  set  forth  in  the 
strongest  terms  by  one  to  whom  fear  was  unknown. 
Rarely  has  there  been  such  an  occasion  of  interest  in 
parliamentary  history. 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  Mr.  Sumner,  "  the  crime  against 
Kansas  is  the  crime  against  nature.  This  territory,  un- 
equaled  in  richness  of  soil  and  salubrity  of  climate,  with 
a  population  of  free  men,  larger  than  Athens  crowded 
within  her  historic  gates,  when  her  sons  under  Militiades 
won  liberty  for  mankind  on  the  field  of  Marathon,  is 
now  the  victim  of  a  crime  far  exceeding  that  of  Yerres, 
a  crime  involving  all  the  rights  of  American  citizens, 
traceable  to  a  depraved  desire  for  a  new  slave  state." 

"  He's  surely  begun  on  a  great  speech,"  whispered 
Noble. 

"  Yes,  we  made  no  mistake  when  we  put  Charles  Sum 
ner  in  the  Senate,"  responded  Wilson. 

Sumner  continued :  "'  The  strife  is  no  longer  local, 
but  national.  Even  now  while  I  speak  portents  lower  in 
the  horizon,  threatening  to  darken  the  land,  which  al- 


Stirring  Times.  209 

ready  palpitates  with  the  mutterings  of  civil  war,  fore 
shadowing  a  conflict  which,  unless  happily  diverted  by 
the  triumphs  of  freedom,  will  become  fratricidal,  parri 
cidal  war,  wicked  beyond  that  of  any  war  in  human  an 
nals,  justly  provoking  the  avenging  judgment  of  Provi 
dence,  and  the  avenging  pen  of  history." 

"  God  avert  the  impending  evil,"  said  Wilson  to 
Noble. 

Sumner  followed  with  a  narration  of  fraud  and  vio 
lence  in  the  Territory,  the  barbarous  enactments  of  the 
legislature  and  the  successive  invasions  of  Missouri, 
and  then  said :  "  Thus  was  the  crime  consummated ; 
slavery  stands  erect,  clanking  its  chains  on  the  Territory 
of  Kansas,  surrounded  by  a  code  of  death,  and  trampling 
upon  all  cherished  liberties,  whether  of  speech,  the  press, 
the  bar,  the  trial  by  jury,  or  the  electoral  franchise;  and 
this  done  for  the  sake  of  political  power  in  order  to  bring 
two  new  slaveholding  senators  upon  this  floor.  As 
the  gallant  ship  voyaging  in  pleasant  summer  seas  is 
assailed  by  a  pirate  crew  and  plundered  of  its  doubloons 
and  dollars,  so  is  this  beautiful  Territory  assailed  in 
peace  and  prosperity,  and  robbed  of  its  political  power, 
for  the  sake  of  slavery.  Even  now  the  black  flag  of  the 
land  pirates  from  Missouri  waves  at  the  masthead ;  in 
their  laws  you  hear  the  pirate  yell,  and  see  the  flash  of 
the  pirate  knife ;  while,  incredible  to  relate,  the  Presi 
dent,  gathering  the  slave  power  at  his  back,  testifies  to 
a  pirate  sympathy." 

For  parts  of  two  days,  this  modern  Cicero  gave  utter 
ance  to  the  pro-slavery  attempts  to  steal  the  state  of  Kan 
sas  ;  his  righteous  anger  flamed  out  at  the  treachery 
and  cruelty  of  the  infamous  scheme. 

"  That's  what  I  call  masterly,  striking  and  scathing," 
cried  Noble. 

"  A  great  speech,"  returned  Wilson.  "  His  excori 
ation  of  Douglass  was  withering  and  scorching.  Sum 
ner  is  strong  in  his  satire ;  perhaps  too  much  so  at 
times." 

"  Possibly,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  that  speech  in  vigor, 
richness  of  diction  and  breadth  of  view  was  never  sur 
passed." 

14 


2io  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  True,"  returned  Wilson,  "  and  the  felicity  and 
beauty  of  his  illustrations  added  greatly  to  its  value. 
Observe,  Noble,  how  he  used  the  classics,  Gothic  myth 
ology,  the  imaginative  literature  of  Europe  and  the  Bible 
for  imagery  and  quotation." 

"  Surely,"  answered  Noble,  "  I  judge  he  had  the 
speeches  of  Cicero  and  Burke  in  mind ;  it  has  truly  been 
a  feast  of  eloquence." 

"It  is  on  the  whole,  I  believe,  the  finest  exhibition  of 
oratory  ever  heard  in  this  hall ;  clear,  close,  reasoning, 
and  freighted  with  a  wealth  of  learning  unequaled." 

While  they  were  speaking  of  Sumner's  great  effort, 
there  had  commenced  a  wild  scene  in  the  senate.  The 
speaker  had  barely  closed,  when  a  chorus  of  voices  called 
out,  "  Mr.  President." 

"  The  Senator  from  Michigan  has  the  floor,"  an 
nounced  the  President. 

Mr.  Cass,  in  great  wrath,  said :  "  I  rise  to  sav  that 
this  speech  is  the  most  un-American  and  unpatriotic  that 
ever  grated  on  the  ears  of  this  senate." 

"  Mr.  President,"  cried  Mason,  "  the  Senator  from 
Massachusetts  has  uttered  unmitigated  falsehoods,  and 
I  brand  him  as  a  new  Cain." 

"  The  Senator  from  Illinois,"  cried  the  President. 
Stephen  A.  Douglass  faced  the  great  assembly  and  wrath- 
fully  gave  utterance  to  his  feelings. 

"  Mr.  President,  I  would  compare  this  speech  to  a 
pieced-up  calico  bed-quilt.  Its  classical  allusions  are 
distinguished  for  lasciviousness  and  obscenity,  and 
drawn  from  those  portions  of  the  classics  usually  sup 
pressed  as  unfit  for  decent  reading.  I  suggest  that  the 
Senator's  object  is  to  provoke  his  adversaries  to  kick  him 
like  a  dog,  that  he  might  gain  sympathy.  He  has  prac 
tised  his  infamous  speech  before  a  mirror,  with  a  little 
negro  to  hold  the  candle,  and  has  repudiated  his  oath 
and  the  Constitution." 

"Mr.  President,  have  I  the  floor?"  shouted  Sumner. 

"  Senator  Sumner  has  the  floor,  gentlemen." 

Sumner  said:  "I  have  just  been  attacked  by  three 
senators.  I  will  only  say  to  Mr.  Cass  that  my  statements 
were  founded  on  legal  documents  and  the  principles  of 


Stirring  Times.  211 

the  Democratic  party  of  that  day.  The  Senator  from 
Illinois  is  a  common  scold  with  bowie  knife  and  bludg 
eon  style  of  debate.  He  has  the  swagger  of  Bob  Acres, 
and  the  ferocity  of  the  Malay,  and  may  be  compared  to 
a  noisome  squat  and  nameless  animal,  who,  in  violence 
of  all  decency,  switches  out  from  his  tongue  the  per 
petual  stench  of  offensive  personality.  The  senator  has 
switched  out  his  tongue  and  again  filled  the  senate 
chamber  with  its  offensive  odor.  As  for  Senator  Mason, 
who  is  not  expected  to  know  any  better  than  to  display 
his  plantation  manners,  I  would  say  that  hot  words  are 
not  arguments,  nor  do  scolds  become  senatorial  dignity." 

"  I  am  sorry  Sumner  is  so  sharp  and  personal  in  his 
attacks,"  whispered  Noble. 

"  It  would  be  better,  perhaps,  if  he  were  less  so,  but 
you  must  remember  that  his  enemies  are  very  exasper 
ating,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Butler  from  South  Carolina  was  not  here,  but  Sum 
ner  turned  his  keen  logic  against  him,  mercilessly  de 
stroying  his  arguments,  and  branded  him  as  the  Don 
Quixote  of  the  Southern  cause.  I  wonder  how  Butler 
will  receive  it.  I  saw  Preston  Brooks  look  very  angry 
at  the  reference  to  his  uncle,"  remarked  Noble. 

"  That  was  rather  an  unfortunate  incident,  but  we 
must  remember  that  Sumner's  makeup  is  such  that  he 
does  not  realize  the  full  force  and  sting  of  his  remarks," 
answered  Wilson. 

"  Uncle  Butler,"  said  Brooks,  "  you  should  challenge 
the  low-lived  scoundrel." 

"  The  duel  is  for  gentlemen,  my  nephew,"  replied 
Butler. 

"  True,"  answered  Brooks.  "  Mr.  Keitt,  how  shall 
we  be  avenged  on  this  devilish  senator,  and  show  our 
contempt  for  his  insults  at  the  same  time?  " 

Mr.  Keitt  of  Charleston  replied :  "  Give  him  a 
caning." 

"  But  when  and  how  ?  "  asked  Brooks. 

"  Couldn't  we  beat  him  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  while 
he's  walking  up  to  the  Capitol?  That  would  disgrace 
him  finely." 


212  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  But  Sumner  is  a  large,  strong  man,  he  might  turn 
on  us,"  was  the  answer. 

"  We  might  take  him  on  the  Capitol  steps." 

"  But  he's  just  as  big  there  as  on  the  avenue,  and 
might  beat  us,"  replied  the  brave  Brooks. 

"True,  O  King!"  said  Keitt.  "Watch  some  oppor 
tunity  when  he  is  off  his  guard  and  in  a  defenseless  posi 
tion  and  at  our  mercy." 

The  next  day,  the  Senate  adjourned  early,  and  Sumner 
remained  at  his  desk  writing.  Most  of  the  senators  had 
left  the  room,  when  Preston  Brooks  came  up  from  be 
hind,  with  his  friends  close  by.  He  struck  Sumner  on 
the  head  with  a  heavy  guttapercha  cane,  blow  after  blow. 
'  Take  that,  you  insulting,  black-hearted  Abolitionist, 
and  that  and  that.  We'll  teach  you  how  to  insult  gentle 
men,  you  low-bred  Northern  puppy  ;  blast  your  infernal 
heart."  And  the' brave,  sweet-spirited  Brooks  continued 
his  deadly  blows.  Sumner's  legs  were  pinioned  by  the 
desk,  though  in  his  effort  to  free  himself,  he  actually  tore 
it  from  the  Moor  and  the  iron  fastenings,  but  Brooks  was 
safe,  and  went  out,  leaving  his  victim  lying  on  the  floor, 
insensible  and  covered  with  blood.  The  whole  affair 
was  of  brief  duration.  The  few  persons  in  the  senate 
chamber,  with  the  exception  of  Brooks'  allies,  heard  noth 
ing  till  they  saw  the  first  blow.  Henry  Wilson  had 
passed  out  a  few  moments  before  the  attack  and  met 
Noble  in  the  ante-room. 

"Well,  Wilson,  things  going  well?" 

"  Finely,"  was  the  answer. 

"What's  going  on  in  the  senate  chamber?"  asked 
Noble,  glancing  through  the  door. 

"  The  Senate  has  adjourned,"  was  the  reply. 

'  There's  some  excitement,"  cried  Noble,  rushing  in 
with  Wilson.  They  saw  Murray  catch  Brooks  by  the 
arm  and  turn  him  away  from  Sumner,  who  fell  to  the 
floor,  partly  caught  by  Morgan.  Keitt  rushed  up  flour 
ishing  an  uplifted  cane,  showing  a  purpose  to  oppose 
any  one  who  should  befriend  Sumner,  and  warning  off 
those  who  hastened  to  his  aid.  "  Let  them  alone !  "  cried 
the  brave  Keitt,  with  his  hand  on  his  pistol. 


Stirring  Times.  213 

"You  approve  of  the  dastardly  act,  do  you?"  cried 
Crittenden,  hastening  towards  Sumner. 

"  Yes,  I  approve  it  for  every  blatant  Abolitionist,"  was 
the  answer. 

Wilson  and  Noble  were  quickly  at  Simmer's  side. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  called  Wilson  in  his  friend's 
ear,  but  the  wounded  senator  made  no  reply.  With 
Noble  and  Morgan,  he  raised  the  bleeding  man,  and 
placed  him  in  the  ante-room.  A  physician  was  called. 
The  blood  flowed  profusely,  soaking  the  collar  and  neck 
of  the  shirt,  and  penetrating  through  his  coat  at  the 
shoulder.  There  were  two  gashes  on  the  head,  both 
going  through  the  scalp  to  the  bone,  laying  it  bare. 
After  the  wounds  were  dressed,  Wilson  and  Noble  took 
Sumner  in  a  carriage  to  his  lodgings  on  Sixth  Street, 
the  senator  being  in  a  partial  stupor  all  the  way. 

"  We  are  terribly  shocked  at  the  dreadful  deed,  Sum 
ner,"  said  Wilson. 

"  I  shall  renew  the  conflict  with  slavery  in  the  Senate 
as  soon  as  I  can  return  there,"  answered  Sumner,  as  his 
friends  left  him. 

"  This  assault  will  make  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  the 
nation,"  said  Noble,  as  they  went  away.  His  prophecy 
proved  true.  The  North  had  honored  Sumner  before, 
now  he  was  their  hero  and  their  martyr.  This  personal 
wrong  crystallized  the  Northern  feeling ;  he  became  more 
than  ever  the  representative  of  the  Abolition  movement. 
As  soon  as  he  was  able,  he  was  taken  to  Frank  Blair's 
beautiful  country  seat  of  Silver  Springs  under  the  care 
of  Henry  Wilson. 

"  God  bless  you,  Sumner,"  said  Wilson.  "  Brace  up, 
sir,  we'll  pull  you  through  and  prosecute  those  villains.'' 

"  'Twas  a  hard  blow,  Wilson,  I  fear  I'll  never  recover; 
however  it  matters  not  if  the  good  work  can  go  on." 

"  Don't  despair,  you  are  too  valuable  a  man  to  lose ; 
God  will  not  allow  it." 

The  Furness  brothers  of  Philadelphia  took  him  from 
place  to  place,  seaside  and  mountain  crest,  seeking  health 
and  strength  which  came  only  slowly.  In  October  he 
went  to  Boston,  and  the  triumphal  reception  eagerly  ac 
corded  him  by  Massachusetts.  He  was  offered  pay  from 


214  Love  and  Libert)'. 

the  Senate  for  the  expenses  of  his  illness,  which  he  de 
clined  to  accept,  and  also  refused  the  magnificent  silver 
vase  which  his  friends  wished  to  give  him. 

"  Give  the  money  subscribed  to  the  recovery  and  se 
curity  of  freedom  in  Kansas,"  said  he. 

He  had  also  told  the  legislature :  "  Whatever  Massa 
chusetts  can  give,  let  it  go  to  suffering  Kansas.' 

Frank  Noble  wrote  to  Willard  Aldrich  of  Glentown : 

"  MY  DEAR  ALDRICII  : — 

"  You  have  doubtless  heard  of  the  dreadful  assault  on 
Senator  Sumner  by  the  cowardly  Preston  I 'rooks. 
Brooks  came  behind  Sumner  at  his  desk  and  beat  him 
unmercifully.  The  senator  tore  his  desk  from  the  iron 
fastenings  in  his  efforts  to  free  himself,  but  his  legs  were 
pinioned  and  he  could  not  escape.  I  happened  to  come 
to  the  senate  chamber  just  as  the  assault  occurred.  Wil 
son  and  I  with  others  hastened  to  the  rescue,  called  a 
doctor,  and  after  the  fearful  wounds  were  dressed,  ac 
companied  him  to  his  home.  Wilson  washed  the  blood 
from  his  hand.;,  and  swore  eternal  vengeance  to  slavery, 
consecrating  his  life  anew,  he  said,  to  the  cause  of  human 
freedom.  It  is  a  terrible  blow,  but  will  consolidate  our 
forces  as  nothing  else  could  have  done.  Wilson,  in  a 
masterly,  fiery  speech  in  the  Senate,  denounced  the  assault 
as  brutal,  murderous  and  cowardly.  The  Southern  mem 
bers  proposed  to  treat  him  in  a  similar  way,  but  I  under 
stand  that  Speaker  Orr  dissuaded  them.  However,  one 
of  them  challenged  him  to  mortal  combat,  though  \Vil- 
son  had  strength  enough  to  decline  the  challenge. 
Brooks,  under  a  vote  of  censure  from  the  House,  finally 
resigned.  A  nominal  fine  of  three  hundred  dollars  is 
all  the  court  here  has  fined  the  would-be  murderer.  The 
excitement  has  been  very  great.  Senator  Tounbs  com 
mended  Brooks'  act,  and  I  hear  that  congratulations 
pour  in  upon  him  from  the  South.  Jefferson  Davis  and 
Buchanan  have  both  written  him  approving  his  murder 
ous  deed,  and  the  Southern  press  praise  him.  How  ter 
rible  it  all  is!  May  God  speed  the  day  when  the  cruel 
system  of  slavery  shall  be  forever  abolished  from  the 
earth ! 


Stirring  Times.  215 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  success  in  the  legislature, 
and  hope  some  time  to  meet  you  in  Washington.  I  shall 
soon  be  home  now  for  the  summer  vacation. 

"  Yours  in  the  cause  of  freedom, 

"  FRANK  NOBLE." 

John  G.  Whittier  wrote  Sumner  that  his  speech  was  a 
"  severe  and  terrible  philippic,"  and  Longfellow  wrote 
to  him  saying : 

"  I  have  just  been  reading  again  your  speech.  It  is 
the  greatest  voice  on  the  greatest  subject  that  has 
been  uttered  since  we  became  a  nation ;  no  matter  for 
insults,  we  feel  them  with  you  ;  no  matter  for  wounds, 
we  also  bleed  in  them !  You  have  torn  the  mask  off 
the  face  of  traitors,  and  at  last  the  spirit  of  the  North 
is  aroused.  One  good  result  of  all  this  is  that  at  length 
freedom  and  slavery  stand  face  to  face  in  the  field  as 
never  before. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW." 


216  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

RACHEL  AND  HER  FRIENDS. 

RACHEL  ALDRICH  at  the  age  of  sixteen  was  greatly  in 
terested  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  Her  soul  had  been 
moved  by  the  wonderful  story  of  slave  life,  by  Mrs. 
Stowe.  Her  whole  life  had  been  in  the  atmosphere  of 
the  Abolition  movement,  and  she  was  taught  by  her  par 
ents  that  the  cause  of  freedom  was  the  cause  of  God. 

"  Mother,"  said  Rachel  one  day,  "  is  God  good?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear ;  why  do  you  ask  such  a  ques 
tion?" 

"  Why  does  He  allow  slavery  to  exist  ?  " 

"  We  cannot  always  understand  His  purposes,  my  dear. 
Slavery  is  an  evil  which  men  have  instituted,  and  God 
allows  it  to  exist  as  yet,  but  I  believe  He  will  soon  destroy 
the  dreadful  system." 

"  Just  think  of  the  terrible  story  of  Black  Joe,"  said 
Rachel ;  "  after  he  ran  away  and  got  to  work,  then  shot 
like  a  clog  in  the  river,  and  his  sister  Margaret  driven 
wild  by  her  sufferings  till  she  killed  her  beautiful  child 
whom  she  loved  with  all  her  heart;  and  after  all,  hus 
band,  wife  and  children  carried  back  to  suffer  and  prob 
ably  die  under  the  dreadful  institution." 

"  Joe's  story  is  very  sad,  Rachel,"  replied  her  mother. 
"  Did  the  children  tell  you  about  his  life?  " 

"  His  wife,  Mrs.  Black,  and  the  children  also,"  re 
sponded  Rachel.  "  Joe  and  Sam  are  getting  to  be  great 
boys  now.  I'm  glad  I've  been  able  to  help  them  some. 
It  seems  when  I  help  them  as  if  I'm  doing  something  for 
the  holy  cause,  mother.  That  Peter  Nichols  must  have 
been  a  terrible  man,"  she  continued. 

"  Yes,  though  I  never  suspected  he  would  do  such  a 
dreadful  deed.  He  hated  colored  people  so  badly  that 
it  led  to  his  own  ruin.  I  have  never  been  able  to  per- 


Rachel  and  Her  Friends.  217 

suade  myself  that  he  meant  to  kill  Joe,  but  was  led  on  by 
his  evil  temper  till  the  deed  was  done,"  said  Margaret. 

Clifford  Noble  and  Chester  Nye  often  called  at  Wil- 
lard's.  Clifford  was  a  fine  gentleman  and  doing  well 
in  college.  He  often  sang  with  Rachel  some  of  the  col 
lege  songs  at  her  home  during  vacation.  Clifford  pro 
fessed  to  accept  his  mother's  views  on  the  slavery  ques 
tion,  though  his  father  had  joined  the  Abolitionists. 

"  Clifford  Noble,"  said  Rachel  one  day,  "  what  will 
I  ever  do  to  you  ?  You  must  not  talk  in  favor  of  slavery, 
it's  the  saddest  and  awfullest  thing  in  all  the  world. 
How  would  you  like  to  be  a  slave,  young  man?  To  be 
ordered  about  and  toil  day  and  night  under  the  over 
seer's  lash ;  to  be  beaten  and  whipped  and  starved,  and 
abused  in  every  possible  way ;  to  have  no  rights  of  your 
own,  no  family  ties  and  to  be  used  worse,  far  worse  than 
dumb  animals  ?  Don't  tell  me  that  colored  people  are 
better  off  that  way,  and  are  made  to  be  slaves,  and  the 
Bible  teaches  it's  right  and  all  that.  I  won't  hear  it,  no, 
sir,"  and  Rachel  stamped  her  pretty  foot  and  threw  back 
her  curly  head,  those  hazel  eyes  snapping  like  fire.  Clif 
ford's  eyes  fairly  danced  with  pleasure.  He  liked  to  see 
this  girl  when  she  threw  her  soul  so  fully  into  her  speech, 
and  pleaded  for  the  rights  of  the  oppressed,  though  he 
cared  nothing  for  her  arguments  or  the  Abolition  cause. 

Something  of  Gertrude  Whitney's  nature  was  apparent 
in  her  children,  though  in  different  ways,  and  softened  in 
each  instance  by  the  father's  character  and  principles. 
Florence  was  tall  and  beautiful  like  her  mother,  with  a 
touch  of  her  mother's  aggravating  spirit,  while  Clifford 
had  his  father's  easy  temperament,  but  received  in  part 
his  mother's  sophistries.  As  he  looked  at  the  lovely 
Rachel  standing  before  him,  pleading  the  cause  of  the 
slave,  he  was  not  distrubed  in  the  least,  but  complacent 
and  persistent  as  ever. 

"  You  are  beautiful,  Puss  Aldrich ;  I  like  to  see  you 
get  excited ;  it  becomes  you  immensely,  my  fairy  queen." 

"  I'm  not  your  fairy  queen,  Clifford  Noble,"  said  Miss 
Rachel  piquantly  ;  "  you  know  you're  wrong,  and  some 
times  I  almost  believe  you  talk  as  you  do  in  order  to 
vex  me.  There  was  that  Master,  Justin  Lyons,  who 


218  Love  and  Liberty. 

owned  ever  and  ever  so  many  slaves.  Black  Joe's  wife 
says  he  and  his  wife  were  proud  and  rich  and  abused 
them.  When  Mrs.  Lyons  got  offended  with  young  slave 
girls,  she'd  call  the  overseer  to  tie  them  up  and  lash  them 
on  the  naked  body ;  sometimes  the  blood  would  run. 
Mrs.  Garner,  Joe's  sister,  was  actually  beaten  by  her 
orders  till  she  sank  unconscious.  O,  Mr.  Noble,  you 
can't  believe  this  thing  is  right.  God  knows  it's  a  curse 
upon  the  nation,  and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  the  curse 
would  have  to  be  wiped  out  in  the  white  man's  blood." 

When  Rachel  mentioned  Justin  Lyons  as  a  cruel 
master,  and  that  his  wife  had  abused  her  slaves,  Clifford 
gave  a  start.  He  knew  well  the  story  of  Margaret 
Garner,  but  Rachel  in  her  excitement  did  not  notice  his 
emotion. 

"  Rachel,"  returned  he,  "  you  are  an  eloquent  de 
fender ;  if  I  ever  get  into  any  trouble,  which  isn't  my 
purpose,  however,  I'll  send  for  you  to  defend  me." 

"  Perhaps  I  won't  come,"  retorted  Rachel ;  "  you  speak 
about  slaves  having  little  feeling  compared  with  white 
people,  but  it  isn't  so.  Black  Joe's  wife  and  boys  are 
just  as  sensitive  and  as  easily  moved  by  insult  or  pain  as 
we  are.  I've  been  to  their  poor  home  more  or  less  ever 
since  I  was  a  wee  girl.  If  Mr.  Lyons  who  owned  Joe 
and  Margaret  had  possessed  any  humanity  in  his  heart, 
he'd  never  have  abused  them,  nor  suffered  his  wife  or 
overseer  to  abuse  them  as  they  did.  Mrs.  Black  says  she 
heard  that  years  ago,  on  account  of  his  wife's  health,  he'd 
sold  his  slaves  and  moved  North  somewhere.  I  only 
hope  he'll  know  a  little  of  what  it  is  to  suffer  some  day, 
though  I  don't  suppose  that's  a  very  pious  wish,"  said 
Rachel. 

Again  thatv  start  by  Clifford  when  Lyons'  name  was 
mentioned,  but  he  answered,  "  Let's  sing  some  college 
songs,  Fairy  ;  you  are  so  full  of  Abolition  we  won't  get 
any  music,  and  I  must  go  soon." 

"  I've  one  more  thrust  for  you,  Clifford,  and  then  we'll 
sing  some  liberty  songs  which  are  better  than  college 
songs." 

"  I  wish  to  ask  you  what  it  means  in  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  where  it  says :  '  All  men  are  entitled  to 


Rachel  and  Her  Friends.  219 

life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness'?  Didn't  the 
Revolutionary  fathers  mean  it?  If  they  did,  why  didn't 
they  prohibit  forever  slavery  in  this  nation?  Why  does 
the  Constitution  recognize  slavery,  though  I  know  that 
Charles  Sumner  says  slavery  is  sectional,  liberty  is  na 
tional.  How  would  you  like  to  be  deprived  of  your 
liberty,  sir?  No  rights,  no  home,  no  friends,  no  col 
lege,  no  manhood?  Clifford  Noble,  I'm  greatly  stirred; 
the  more  I  read  and-  the  older  I  grow,  and  the  more 
evil  results  I  see  of  this  dreadful  institution,  makes  me 
righteously  indignant.  Now,  sir,  as  I've  given  you  a 
piece  of  my  mind,  we'll  adjourn  to  the  piano,"  and  Miss 
Rachel  gracefully  seated  herself  at  the  instrument,  her 
whole  being  strong,  ardent,  bounding  with  sympathy  for 
the  suffering  slaves.  Clifford  watched  her  dainty  fingers, 
while  her  animated  countenance,  like  some  Spartan 
maiden,  was  lighted  with  strong  heroism  and  defiance  of 
evil. 

"  She  thinks  she's  right,"  he  thought  as  he  selected  a 
song  which  they  sang  together.  Now,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  Rachel  liked  Clifford  very  much,  and  if  he  had 
only  been  interested  in  freedom's  cause,  his  designs  on 
her  heart  might  have  met  with  quite  a  ready  response. 
But  this  young  lady  had  something  of  Margaret's  sturdy 
independence  and  wilful  disposition,  and  Clifford  made 
little  headway  along  the  lines  which  appeared  to  him  im 
portant. 

"  I  can  never  live  without  her,"  he  murmured  to  him 
self  that  evening  as  he  bade  her  good  night.  He  little 
knew  the  future,  and  that  those  halcyon  days  would  come 
to  his  memory  in  later  years  with  their  messages  of 
both  pain  and  pleasure. 

Rachel's  friends  were  many  in  Glentown,  and  also  in 
Worcester,  the  neighboring  city,  for  none  could  know 
her  well  and  not  love  her.  Many  poor  families  blessed 
her  every  time  they  saw  her  beautiful  face,  and  the  few 
colored  people  in  Glentown  said  that  Miss  Aldrich  would 
have  a  high  place  in  heaven,  though  God  grant  she  might 
not  go  there  for  long,  long  years  to  come. 

Florence  Noble,  though  three  years  older  than  Rachel, 
was  friendly.  Mrs.  Noble  would  fain  have  stopped  all 


22O  Love  and  Liberty. 

intimacy  between  the  two  families,  but  after  some  futile 
attempts,  pave  up  in  despair.  Frank  Noble  would  do  as 
he  pleased  about  some  things,  and  his  children  early  ap 
preciated  the  strong  virtues  of  the  Aldrich  family.  So 
Florence  came  often  and  had  no  serious  differences  with 
Rachel,  unless  she  indulged  in  some  jealous,  aggravating 
remarks,  when  Fairy  would  say :  "  Florence,  my  dear, 
you  know  we  never  talk  like  that  here,"  and  then  lead 
the  conversation  to  other  subjects.  The  two  girls  were 
not  much  alike  even  in  their  beauty.  Florence  was  taller 
and  statelier,  and  had  a  certain  dignity  when  good  na- 
tured,  which  made  her  attractive,  but  Rachel  was  so 
piquant  and  bewitching  that  even  the  young  men  of  her 
acquaintance  said  they  liked  her  better  than  the  prouder 
appearing  Miss  Florence.  Chester  Xye  actually  worshiped 
her,  but  Rachel  received  his  homage  indifferently  unless 
she  had  some  pique  to  display  towards  Clifford,  when 
she  used  his  name  quite  frequently  and  almost  drove 
that  young  man  wild  with  her  provoking  reference  to 
Chester. 


The  Murder.  221 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE    MURDER. 

"  STAND  back  there!    Is  he  dead?  " 

"  Yes,  dead  and  cold/'  was  the  answer. 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  How  do  I  know  who  he  is  ?  " 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

"  Notify  the  officers,  of  course." 

"How  was  he  killed?" 

"Don't  you  see  that  bloody  knife?" 

"  Stabbed  to  the  heart,  I  should  say." 

"  I  think  so,"  wa.s  the  answer. 

The  two  men  had  left  their  homes  early  one  morning, 
to  attend  to  some  business  beyond  Westport.  By  the 
roadside,  in  Keene,  they  came  across  the  cold,  dead  body 
of  a  young  man.  It  startled  them  greatly,  for  a  murder 
had  been  unknown  in  that  section  for  years.  They  went 
for  the  sheriff  at  the  village  and  accompanied  him 
to  the  spot.  The  sheriff  turned  the  body  over,  getting  a 
good  look  at  the  face. 

"  My  God,"  he  cried,  "  it's  Lawrence  Lyons !  " 

"  Lawrence  Lyons,"  ejaculated  one.  "  Do  you  suppose 
Horace  Fuller  did  it?  You  know  he  had  a  duel  years 
ago  with  young  Lyons." 

"  Horace  Fuller?  No,"  replied  the  sheriff,  "  he's  one  of 
our  most  honorable  and  honored  men." 

"  Was  Lyons  married?  " 

"  No,  he  was  a  great  ladies'  man,  but  has  never 
married  so  far  as  I  know." 

"  What  will  his  parents  say?  "  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"  God  only  knows.  It's  terrible,  men,  terrible.  Look 
at  that  bloody  knife." 

He  took  the  knife  in  his  hand.  It  was  an  ordinary 
butcher's  knife,  used  by  farmers  in  slaughtering  hogs 


222  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  cattle.  On  the  handle  were  the  letters  roughly 
carved,  "  H.  F."  He  started  back  in  astonishment.  "  It 
can't  be  possible,  it  can't  be  possible,"  he  murmured. 

"  Men,  help  me  load  the  body;  there.  Note  how  the 
place  looks ;  there's  been  a  scuffle.  I  shall  have  to  arrest 
you,  gentlemen,  and  hold  you  as  witnesses  if  nothing 
more.  You  found  the  dead  body  and  I  can  do  no  less." 
The  men  demurred  but  were  obliged  to  yield. 

The  coroner's  inquest  decided  that  Lawrence  Lyons 
came  to  his  death  by  stabbing  with  a  butcher's  knife,  in 
the  hands  of  some  person  unknown,  but  inasmuch  as  the 
knife  had  the  initials  H.  F.  on  the  handle,  and  Horace 
Fuller  had  formerly  fought  a  duel  with  Lyons,  it  recom 
mended  that  he  be  arrested  and  examined. 

Late  that  afternoon,  the  sheriff  drove  to  Jesse  Fuller's 
residence. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Fuller/' 

"Good  afternoon,  Sheriff;  anything  new?" 

"Is  Horace  about  ?  " 

"  Xo,  Horace  left  last  evening  for  Kansas.  Has  gone 
out  for  a  trip  and  possibly  may  settle  there ;  has  been 
planning  it  for  some  time." 

"Gone  to  Kansas?"  ejaculated  the  sheriff,  "and  last 
night?  It's  very  strange.  Have  you  heard  the  news, 
Mr.  Fuller?" 

"What  news?"  replied  Jesse;  "we've  been  busy  all 
day,  hard  at  work." 

"  Lawrence  Lyons  was  found  murdered  by  the  road 
side  a  mile  and  a  half  below  you  this  morning.  He  was 
stabbed  with  a  knife.  The  knife  had  the  initials  '  H.  F.' 
on  the  handle." 

Jesse  staggered  like  a  drunken  man. 

"  Sheriff,  you  surely  do  not  suspect  Horace  of  that  act ; 
you  know  us  all  well,  and  all  our  trials  concerning 
Marion  and  Lyons.  Horace,  it  is  true,  met  Lawrence  in 
a  duel  years  ago,  and  wounded  him,  but  it  was  an  hon 
orable  duel  so  far  as  duels  can  be  honorable,  though  I 
knew  nothing  about  it  until  too  late,  and  never  would 
have  consented  to  it.  O,  sir,  believe  me,  this  is  some 
terrible  conspiracy.  God  in  heaven,  have  mercy  upon  us ; 
our  lives  are  cursed  by  the  sins  of  others ! "  And  Jesse 


The  Murder.  223 

Fuller  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  groaned  in 
spirit. 

"  Mr.  Fuller,  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  you  and 
Horace.  Here,  however,  is  the  knife ;  the  blood  is  still 
on  it ;  is  it  yours  ?  "  and  the  sheriff  unwrapped  the  bloody 
knife  which  he  had  in  a  paper. 

Jesse  looked  upon  the  ghastly  implement ;  there  were 
the  initials  as  they  were  accustomed  to  cut  them  in  the 
handles  of  their  tools  and  knives,  "  H.  F." 

"  Sheriff,  I  cannot  tell ;  it  does  look  like  one  of  our 
knives,  but  we  are  innocent ;  we  often  lend  our  tools, 
and  that's  why  we  mark  the  handles.  That  knife  may  be 
one  that  we  have  lent  to  some  neighbor." 

"  It  looks  bad  that  Horace  should  leave  the  very  night 
the  murder  was  committed,"  said  the  sheriff. 

"  I  admit  it,  sir,  but  it  is  one  of  those  strange  coinci 
dences  which  so  often  occur.  Believe  me,  Horace  has 
rejoiced  time  after  time  that  Lyons  recovered  from  his 
wounds  and  he  was  guiltless  of  his  death." 

The  sheriff  did  not  arrest  Jesse.  His  sincerity  was 
undoubted.  Horace  had  gone.  It  was  twenty-four  hours 
since  he  had  left  home.  Could  he  find  and  overtake  him, 
was  the  question.  He  did  not  believe  him  guilty,  but  the 
interests  of  justice  demanded  that  he  should  be  arrested. 
The  clue  must  be  followed.  The  sheriff  left,  after  in 
quiring  about  Horace's  destination,  and  drove  rapidly  to 
Whitehall. 

In  the  most  beautiful  home  in  Westport  lay  the  dead 
body  of  Lawrence  Lyons.  His  father  was  broken  with 
grief,  and  his  mother  raved  at  intervals  like  one  mad. 
"When  thev  brought  the  body  home,  she  cried  out  in 
agony,  "  It's  come  true,  the  curse  is  upon  us ;  I  showed 
no  mercy,  no  mercy  will  be  shown  to  me.  Marion  said 
it ;  I  heard  her  wail  of  agony ;  I  heard  her  curses !  " 

The  body  was  prepared  for  burial,  and  lay  in  the  costly 
casket.  The  mother  went  to  look  upon  the  form  of 
her  last  child,  slain  by  an  assassin's  hand.  "  Lawrence, 
dear,  this  is  your  mother ;  you  were  all  the  boy  I  ever 
had ;  my  girls  all  died ;  look  up,  my  boy ;  don't  you  know 
your  own  mother?  I  used  to  carry  you  in  my  arms,  and 


224  Love  and  Liberty. 

kiss  your  pretty  checks ;  you  put  you  fat  arms  around  my 
neck  and  said,  '  Mama.'  Don't  you  remember  the  first 
day  you  went  to  school  ?  This  is  mama,  Lawrence ; 
can't  you  kiss  me?  I  was  so  proud  of  you  ;  I  wanted  you 
to  marry  well,  and  be  an  honor  to  us.  Don't  you  know? 
Who  said  Marion  ?  Where  is  she  ?  I  didn't  turn  her  out 
of  doors,  she  went  herself;  she  cursed  me  when  she 
went.  Whose  little  boy  is  that?  Marion's?  ATo!  Who 
said  our  money  is  the  price  of  blood?  I  never  whipped 
any  slaves,  the  overseers  did  it !  Good-by,  Lawrence, 
mother  loves  you.  Dead?  Dead?  God  in  heaven,  is  he 
dead?  JThat?  Laurence,  my  boy,  dead?  Pity  me!  Ha, 
ha !  Curses,  you  said,  ha,  ha !  Have  a  dance  with  mother, 
my  boy.  Lullaby  !  Lullaby  !  What,  Justin,  is  that  you  ? 
Where's  Lawrence?  It's  time  he  came  home."  And 
Justin  Lyons  bore  his  raving  wife  from  his  dead  boy's 
casket,  to  her  own  room. 


Black  Jack  and  Osawatomie.  225 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

BLACK    JACK    AND   OSAWATOMIE. 

"  HALT  !  Who  goes  there  ?  "  A  bullet  whizzed  close 
to  the  head  of  a  young  man,  who  was  heavily  armed. 

"  A  friend,"  he  answered ;  "  save  your  bullets  for 
enemies." 

"  Advance,  friend ;  throw  up  your  hands." 

The  young  man  advanced  and  the  sentry  appeared 
before  a  tree,  then  suddenly  ushered  the  stranger  into  a 
wild  scene  near  the  edge  of  a  creek,  where  a  company 
of  men  were  standing  or  reclining  or  the  grass.  The 
sentry  was  a  desperate  looking  fellow  of  fine  proportions, 
with  half  a  dozen  pistols  in  his  belt  and  a  large  bowie 
knife  prominent  among  them.  He  wore  no  hat  and  his 
heavy  hair  was  uncombed.  His  beard  was  rough  and 
matted.  He  wore  red-topped  boots  over  his  trousers,  a 
coarse  blue  shirt,  and  had  the  countenance  of  a  man 
desperately  in  earnest. 

"  You're  in  our  camp,"  he  cried. 

"  Just  what  I  wanted,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  There 
were  turnings  and  changes  enough  to  get  here." 

The  man  smiled  and  said :  "  We  have  to  keep  a  sharp 
lookout  for  these  border  ruffians." 

The  stranger  went  toward  the  chief  of  the  band. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Captain  Brown." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Fuller,  how  came  you  here?  " 

"  Came  to  join  your  band  and  fight  for  the  freedom 
of  Kansas,"  answered  Horace. 

"  Welcome  sir,  welcome,"  returned  Brown. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Fuller. 

Horace  glanced  about  the  camp  as  he  received  a  cor 
dial  greeting  from  the  band.  A  dozen  horses  were  tied 
to  trees,  a  large  number  of  sabers  and  rifles  were  close  at 
hand ;  there  was  a  blazing  fire  in  the  open  space,  with  a 

15 


226  Love  and  Liberty. 

pot  on  it,  and  an  honest  looking  sunburnt  woman,  bare 
headed,  was  picking  berries  from  the  bushes  not  far 
away.  Several  men,  heavily  armed  with  bowie  knives 
and  pistols,  lay  on  the  grass. 

'This  is  my  son  Frederick,"  said  Brown  to  Horace, 
indicating  the  stalwart  looking  fellow  who  had  guarded 
the  camp. 

"  Glad  to  meet  him,"  answered  Horace,  "  though  he 
put  a  bullet  very  close  to  my  head." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  necessities  of  the  camp  that  we  keep 
off  straggling  enemies,  and  he  evidently  feared  you  were 
such,"  replied  Brown. 

"  Here  are  two  other  of  my  sons,  Mr.  Fuller,  Owen 
and  Salmon,  and  this  is  Hungarian  Charley,  as  brave  a 
fellow  as  ever  drew  a  saber." 

Horace  and  the  young  man  exchanged  greetings. 
'  Thompson,  this   is   Mr.   Fuller,  an  old  neighbor  of 
mine  in  North  Elba,"  continued  Brown.    The  men  shook 
hands.    Brown  stood  near  the  fire,  shirt-sleeves  rolled  up, 
cooking  a  young  pig. 

'  You  don't  wear  broadcloth  out  here,"  said  1  lorace 
to  Brown  who  was  poorly  clad,  his  toes  protruding  from 
some  old  shoes. 

"  No,  sir,  those  who  live  delicately  are  in  kings'  courts," 
returned  the  Captain,  with  his  rare  smile. 

"  How  do  you  like  camping  out  here?  " 

"  First  rate,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Do  you  like  the  policy  of  Kansas  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  Fuller ;  there's  too  general  a  regard  for 
safety  to  suit  me.  I  don't  like  riding  in  the  night  as  if  we 
were  afraid.  Solid  fighting  for  me,  sir,  fighting  that 
means  business  and  accomplishes  something,  that's  why 
I'm  here  with  my  company.  Yes,  sir,  Kansas  must  be 
made  free,  and  we're  here  to  help  do  it." 

"  Are  you  as  religious  as  ever?  "  inquired  Fuller. 

"Most  asuredly,  sir;  we  never  permit  any  profane 
language  in  camp,  and  no  man  of  immoral  character, 
except  as  prisoners  of  war." 

The  pig  was  soon  cooked,  and  the  men  called  to 
dinner.  Every  man  bowed  Ins  head  while  Brown  a^ked 
the  customary  blessing.  Thanks  were  also  returned  at 


Black  Jack  and  Osawatomie.  227 

the  close  of  the  meal,  and  Horace  learned  that  this  was 
the  universal  practise  when  Brown  was  present. 

"How  are  things  in  New  York,  Mr.  Fuller?"  in 
quired  the  Captain. 

"  Everything-  is  about  as  usual,"  answered  Horace. 

"  Keene  and  Westport  are  quiet  towns." 

"  And  North  Elha  as  well,  eh  ?  "  said  Brown.  "  Have 
you  seen  anything  of  my  family  recently  ?  " 

''  Not  for  some  time  before  I  left  home,"  was  the 
answer. 

Horace,  later  in  the  day,  fell  into  conversation  with 
Thompson. 

"Interested  with  Brown  at  North  Elba?"  inquired 
Thompson,  fondling  his  musket  with  a  warrior's  pride. 

"  No,  only  one  of  his  neighbors  interested  in  the  cause 
of  freedom,  and  came  to  cast  my  lot  with  you  for  the 
liberty  of  Kansas,"  answered  Horace.  "  Brown  is  a 
great  fighter,  I  suppose?" 

;'  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Thompson,  "  he  is  a  remarkable 
man  ;  believes  he  is  doing  the  Almighty's  will  in  this 
warfare ;  he  doesn't  copy  others ;  he  believes  in  the 
Golden  Rule,  and  the  Declaration  of  Independence  tre 
mendously.  He  thinks  Nat  Turner,  that  negro  revolu 
tionist,  is  about  equal  to  George  Washington ;  he  believes 
all  men  are  brothers,  and  that  the  God  of  battles  is 
going  to  use  him  to  free  the  slaves." 

"  His  principles  are  all  right,  surely,"  said  Horace. 

"  Of  course  they  are  right ;  he  takes  them  out  of  the 
Bible.  The  men  say  that  the  Bible  story  of  Gideon  has 
a  great  influence  on  his  actions,  sir.  Sometimes  he  goes 
into  the  woods  alone  and  wrestles  with  God  in  prayer 
for  the  freedom  of  the  slave,  and  for  victory  here  in 
Kansas ;  he  comes  back  from  these  times  and  says  the 
Lord  directs  him  what  to  do." 

"  He  certainly  is  a  strange  but  most  remarkable  man," 
was  the  reply. 

Horace  had  a  talk  with  Brown  soon  afterward. 

"  Do  you  like  war,  Captain  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  like  peace.  I  only  act  in  obedience  to  the 
•will  of  the  Almighty  who  directs  my  course.  Religion 
must  win  in  this  contest.  Fuller,  I  would  rather  have 


228  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  smallpox,  yellow  fever  and  cholera  all  together  than 
a  man  without  principles.  Give  me  Godfearing  men 
who  respect  themselves,  and  with  a  dozen  of  them,  I 
will  oppose  any  hundred  such  men  as  these  Buford 
ruffians." 

Horace  wrote  his  father:  "Never  have  I  seen  such  a 
band  of  .aen ;  they  are  earnestness  incarnate ;  six  of  them 
are  Brown's  sons ;  I  am  glad  that  I  am  here  to  help  make 
Kansas  a  free  state." 

John  Brown's  trip  to  England  in  the  interest  of  the 
wool  business  brought  only  financial  disaster.  In  1851 
he  went  back  to  Akron,  Ohio,  where  he  managed  a  farm, 
and  still  did  something  in  the  wool  business.  In  1854 
his  four  eldest  sons,  all  by  his  first  wife,  went  unarmed  to 
Kansas  to  help  make  it  a  free  state,  and  settled  in  the 
southern  part,  eight  miles  from  Osawatomie,  not  far 
from  the  Missouri  border.  Here  they  were  harassed 
and  plundered  by  ruffian  gangs  from  Missouri ;  they 
needed  arms  and  wrote  their  father  to  procure  them. 
He  obtained  some  and  went  with  them.  His  purpose 
was  to  fight  for  the  liberty  of  the  state.  His  family 
moved  back  to  North  Elba  in  1855. 

Horace  Fuller,  after  many  adventures,  and  some  hair 
breadth  escapes,  had  at  last  found  Brown's  camp  as  we 
have  described. 

Frederick  was  wild  over  the  Pattawattomie  executions. 
"  \Ve  are  accused  of  doing  it,"  he  cried  to  Horace,  "  but 
it's  a  lie,  sir,  a  downright  lie." 

"  We'll  talk  no  more  about  it  now,"  said  Brown  ;  "  I'll 
answer  as  captain  for  the  conduct  of  the  band.  Those 
men  had  offered  the  grossest  insult  to  my  daughter," 
said  Brown  to  Horace,  when  they  were  alone,  "  and  the 
ruffians  deserved  death,  but  I  had  no  hand  in  it,  though 
I  afterward  indorsed  it ;  it  was  a  righteous  execution  ; 
time  and  the  honest  verdict  of  posterity  will  approve  it ; 
I  did  not  know  that  the  men  were  killed  till  the  following 
day,  and  was  twenty-five  miles  away  when  the  deed  was 
done." 

A  few  days  later,  Horace,  with  some  of  the  band, 
went  for  a  religious  meeting  to  the  house  of  Dr.  Graham, 


Black  Jack  and  Osawatomie.  229 

who  was  then  a  prisoner  at  Black  Jack,  held  by  the  pro- 
slavery  ruffians.  Like  the  Revolutionary  fathers,  they 
went  to  church  with  their  guns  on  their  shoulders.  The 
closing  services  were  in  progress  when  a  watcher  cried 
out :  "  The  Missourians  !  They  are  coming." 

The  men  rushed  from  the  house  and  captured  four  of 
the  marauders,  two  of  the  men  escaping. 

"  It's  Captain  Pate's  band,"  exclaimed  Thompson. 

"  We  must  follow  them  to  Black  Jack,"  said  Captain 
Brown.  The  Captain  marched  within  a  mile  of  the  pro- 
slavery  camp,  left  his  horses  and  two  men  to  guard 
them,  and  sent  two  messengers  to  other  points  for  as 
sistance.  Then,  with  his  twenty-six  remaining  men  in 
two  divisions,  went  toward  the  enemy's  camp. 

Captain  Pate  was  strongly  fortified  and  had  sixty  men." 
In  the  gray  dawn  of  Monday  morning,  one  of  his  pickets 
galloped  in,  shouting :  "  The  Abolitionists  are  coming !  " 

"  Where — how  many  ?  "  cried  Pate. 

"  Across  the  prairie,"  cried  the  picket,  "  there's  a 
hundred  of  them  !  " 

"  Get  the  men  behind  the  breastwork  of  wagons," 
commanded  Pate. 

The  fighting  began.  Captain  Shore  poured  a  volley 
into  Pate's  ranks  behind  the  wagons,  which  was  instantly 
returned.  The  sound  of  musketry  pealed  through  the 
air  and  echoed  along  the  ravine.  Captain  Brown  with 
Horace  and  seven  other  men  hurried  into  the  ravine, 
firing  rapidly  from  that  quarter. 

"  We're  whipped,  we're  whipped,"  yelled  the  ruffians, 
and  retreated  to  the  ravine,  where  Brown's  men  kept  up 
an  incessant  fire. 

Horace  Fuller  was  doing  good  execution,  when  ap 
proaching  near  the  enemy,  a  man  close  by  saw  him  and 
fired  a  pistol  at  him,  the  ball  just  grazing  his  side. 

"  Take  that,"  shouted  Horace,  as  he  fired  his  gun  at 
the  man,  but  for  some  reason  the  ruffian  appeared  unin 
jured  and  yelled  back:  "I'll  teach  you,  you  devilish 
Abolitionist,"  and  sprang  toward  Horace,  swinging  a 
huge  knife. 

Horace  had  done  but  little  fighting  but  kept  cool  in 
the  moment  of  danger.  The  ruffian  with  ferocious  look, 


230  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  swearing1  great  oaths,  plunged  his  knife  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Horace's  heart.  With  a  swift  movement.  Horace 
evaded  the  lunge,  drew  his  saber  and  was  about  to  strike 
the  ruffian,  when  the  latter  fired  a  pistol,  the  shot  taking 
effect  in  the  left  arm  of  Fuller,  making  him  cringe  for 
an  instant  with  pain.  However,  he  soon  recovered  him 
self  and  thrust  at  the  man  desperately,  just  touching  him 
with  the  saber.  The  man  brandished  his  knife,  but  Hor 
ace,  dropping  the  saber,  grasped  his  gun  and  with  a 
terrible  blow  struck  his  assailant  down.  The  man  fell 
with  a  yell,  and  Horace,  quick  as  lightning,  fired  a  pistol 
shot  into  his  head.  The  fellow  gave  a  deep  groan,  lay 
still  and  Horace  plunged  again  into  the  fight. 

Frederick  Brown  had  left  the  horses,  and  appeared 
on  the  hill  half-way  between  the  two  divisions  of  Brown, 
brandishing  a  sword  and  shouting:  "  Come  on,  come  on, 
I  have  cut  off  all  communication ;  the  sword  of  the  Lord 
and  Gideon !  " 

"  Here  we  are,"  shouted  Horace,  mad  with  excitement. 

The  Missourians  were  panic-stricken  ;  bullets  Hew  all 
about  them;  many  had  been  killed  and  wounded;  they 
fell  back  one  by  one,  gliding  down  the  ravine,  ran  to 
their  horses  and  galloped  away.  Captain  Pate  sent  a 
flag  of  truce,  and  upon  Brown's  demand,  made  an  uncon 
ditional  surrender.  Five  heroes  received  the  surrender 
of  twenty-one*  men,  with  several  wounded.  A  large 
number  of  arms  were  obtained,  twenty-three  horses  and 
mules,  and  a  quantity  of  goods  plundered  from  a  Free- 
State  store,  a  few  days  before ;  also  wagons,  camp 
equipage  and  provisions. 

"  Order  the  men  from  the  hill,"  called  Captain  Brown. 
Sixteen  Free-State  men,  all  told,  appeared. 

"  March  the  prisoners  to  camp."    It  was  done  ! 

'  This  is  a  devilish  pickle."  muttered  Pate.  "  Twenty- 
one  men  surrender  to  five !  " 

"  Xo  profanity,"  ordered  Brown.  "  Any  of  our  men 
injured?"  inquired  he  of  Thompson. 

"  Fuller  is  hit  in  the  arm.  and  had  a  desperate  struggle 
with  one  of  the  ruffians,"  answered  Thompson.  "  but  set 
tled  him  at  last ;  he's  a  gritty  chap.  Young  Simmons 
was  hit  in  the  side  and  had  to  be  carried  off." 


Black  Jack  and  Osavvatomie.  231 

"  Pretty  good  work,"  said  Brown,  "  for  only  three 
hours'  fighting!-" 

"  You  are  right,"  exclaimed  Thompson. 

When  all  had  reported,  however,  it  was  found  that 
both  Owen  and  Salmon,  Brown's  sons,  had  been 
wounded  in  the  encounter,  though  not  seriously. 

"  Steady,  men,  aim  low,  pick  your  men ;  don't  waste 
powder  and  bullets ;  that's  good,  see  'em  fall." 

"  All  right,  Cap'n,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Captain  Brown,  we're  very  sorry,  sir,  but  they  are 
bringing  in  the  body  of  Frederick.  The  men  say  he  was 
shot  by  Parson  White,  who  led  the  advance  party  against 
us  this  morning;  shot  down  like  a  dog  before  he  knew 
the  hostile  character  of  the  party." 

John  Brown  groaned  in  spirit.  "  Place  him  there, 
men  ;  he  was  as  brave  a  man  as  ever  drew  a  sword. 
Almighty  God  help  me.  This  is  a  fight  to  the  death. 
Men,  we  must  to  the  battle  again ;  there  are  five  hundred 
of  them  against  us,  well  armed  ;  General  Reid  is  leading 
them.  Stand  your  ground,  freemen  !  fire !  "  and  the  sharp 
rattling  musketry  rang  out  upon  the  air  as  the  soldiers 
sprang  to  the  fight. 

"  How  many  of  our  men  have  fallen  ? "  inquired 
Horace. 

"  Three  besides  my  son ;  that's  a  terrible  volley  they 
sent  us ;  there  falls  another ;  see  if  he  is  mortally 
wounded ;  keep  out  of  sight  all  you  can ;  give  it  to  them, 
we  are  making  them  waver.  Fuller,  take  charge  of  this 
wing." 

Horace  obeyed  orders  and  sent  death  into  the  ranks 
of  the  enemy. 

"  Hungarian  Charley  is  killed,"  cried  one. 

"  Keep  calm,  men,  we  are  holding  our  own;  some  of 
us  must  die  in  this  fight,  but  it  is  the  cause  of  freedom." 

"  Captain,"  cried  Horace,  "  the  grape  shot  and  bullets 
are  all  about  you  ;  you'll  be  killed ;  do  not  expose  yourself 
so  much ;  the  fire  is  incessant,"  but  Brown  paid  no  at 
tention  to  the  caution. 

"  The  ammunition  is  giving  out,"  called  Thompson. 

"  I  feared  it  all  the  while,"  said  Brown.    "  Keep  quiet; 


232  Love  and  Liberty. 

we  won't  retreat  till  we  see  the  whites  of  their  eyes ;  this 
is  a  blow  in  the  struggle  for  liberty." 

It  was  the  battle  of  Osawatomie.  When  the  freemen 
saw  the  whites  of  the  enemy's  eyes,  Brown,  with  ammu 
nition  all  exhausted,  gave  the  order  to  retreat.  They  re 
treated,  carrying  their  five  dead  companions  with  them, 
and  helping  along  several  wounded.  The  entire  force  of 
Brown  had  been  thirty-three  men  against  five  hundred 
ruffians.  The  Missourians  had  thirty-two  killed  and 
about  fifty  wounded.  They  killed  the  only  wounded 
prisoner  whom  they  captured,  and  also  Mr.  Williams, 
whom  they  found  in  the  village,  who  had  taken  no  part 
in  the  fight,  and  then  returned  across  the  border. 

"  We've  killed  old  John  Brown  and  broken  up  his 
band,"  they  exclaimed  on  their  return. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  your  wagon  loads  of  dead, 
then  ?  "  exclaimed  one. 

"  And  your  scores  of  wounded,"  added  another. 

The  terror  of  the  old  Puritan's  name  and  forces  spread 
throughout  the  state,  making  future  invasions  infrequent. 

"  I  hear  they  have  elected  Parson  White  who  killed 
your  son,  Frederick,  to  the  legislature,"  said  Horace  to 
Captain  Brown,  one  day. 

"  Yes,  Fuller,  and  it  is  told  me  that  he  entertained  his 
associates  with  a  graphic  and  humorous  account  of  kill 
ing  his  victim,"  replied  Brown. 

Owen  and  Salmon  heard  the  conversation,  but  said 
nothing.  However,  it  came  about  soon  after  the  fighting 
Parson  started  home  from  the  legislature  session,  that 
his  body  was  found  cold  and  stiff  on  the  prairie,  with  a 
rifle  ball  through  the  vitals.  Nobody,  however,  ever 
discovered  who  killed  him. 

Six  weeks  after  the  Osawatomie  fight,  two  thousand 
eight  hundred  Missourians  were  reported  on  their  way 
to  Lawrence  under  Atchinson  and  Reid.  Only  two  hun 
dred  men  could  be  rallied  for  the  defense,  and  Brown 
was  chosen  leader.  He  made  the  following  speech  from 
a  dry-goods  box  in  Main  Street  near  the  post-office : 

"  Gentlemen,  it  is  said  that  there  are  twenty-five  hun 
dred  Missourians  down  at  Franklin  and  that  they  will 
be  here  in  two  hours.  You  can  see  for  yourselves  the 
smoke  they  are  making  by  setting  fire  to  the  houses  in 


Black  Jack  and  Osawatomie.  233 

that  town.  Now  is  probably  the  last  opportunity  you  will 
have  of  seeing  a  fight,  so  that  you  had  better  do  your 
best.  If  they  should  come  up  and  attack  us,  don't  yell 
and  make  a  great  noise,  but  remain  perfectly  still.  Wait 
till  they  get  within  twenty-five  yards  of  you;  get  a  good 
object ;  be  sure  you  see  the  hind  sight  of  your  gun,  then 
fire.  A  great  deal  of  powder  and  lead  and  precious  time 
are  wasted  in  firing  too  high.  You  had  better  aim  at 
their  legs  than  at  their  heads.  In  either  case,  be  sure  of 
the  hind  sight  of  your  guns.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
I  myself  have  so  many  times  escaped,  for  if  all  the  bullets 
which  have  been  aimed  at  me  had  hit  me,  I  should  have 
been  as  full  of  holes  as  a  riddle." 

After  posting  his  men  so  as  to  hide  their  paucity  of 
numbers,  they  anxiously  waited  for  an  attack.  The  hos 
tile  forces  remained  all  night  about  half  a  mile  from 
each  other  with  a  cornfield  between,  their  positions  only 
revealed  by  the  flash  and  reports  of  the  guns.  When 
the  morning  came,  the  ruffians  had  decamped. 


234  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    WESTERN    ORATOR. 

JUNE  17,  1858,  Frank  Noble  and  \Villard  Aldrich 
were  in  the  city  hall  at  Springfield,  Illinois.  A  tall,  bony 
man,  six  feet  four  inches  in  height,  having  something  of 
the  back-woods  appearance  about  him,  was  delivering  a 
terse,  forcible  and  radical  speech  on  national  questions. 
He  had  been  presented  as  a  Republican  candidate  for 
the  scat  of  Stephen  A.  Douglass  in  the  United  States 
Senate,  and  had  been  elected  to  Congress  in  1846,  where 
he  served  one  term.  There  was  a  humorous  way  about 
him  which  attracted  the  people.  He  had  some  local  repu 
tation  as  a  "  coming  man,"  which,  with  his  novel  and 
startling  speech,  created  great  interest. 

"  A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.  I 
believe  this  government  cannot  permanently  endure,  half 
slave  and  half  free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be 
dissolved.  I  do  not  expect  the  house  to  fall,  but  I  do 
expect  that  it  will  become  all  one  thing  or  another. 
Either  the  opponents  of  slavery  will  arrest  the  further 
spread  of  it,  and  place  it  where  the  public  mind  shall 
rest  in  the  belief  that  it  is  in  the  course  of  ultimate  ex 
tinction,  or  its  advocates  will  push  it  forward  till  it 
shall  become  alike  lawful  in  all  the  states,  old  as  well 
as  new,  North  as  well  as  South." 

"  Lincoln  is  a  prophet,"  said  Willard  to  Noble. 

"  Like  enough,"  answered  Noble ;  "  I  hope  the  last  part 
won't  come  true." 

"  So  do  I,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  it  will  not ;  it  is 
the  first  part  which  will  come  to  pass.  Freedom  to  all 
must  be  the  outcome  of  a  Republican  form  of  gov 
ernment." 

Lincoln  went  on : 

"  Squatter  sovereignty  has  been  so  perverted  in  Kan* 


The  Western  Orator.  235 

sas  as  to  amount  to  just  this:  that  if  any  one  man  choose 
to  enslave  another,  no  third  man  shall  be  allowed  to 
object:' 

'  True  as  gospel/'  whispered  Wiilarcl. 

"  Hot  times  they  are  having  in  Kansas,"  he  continued ; 
"  how  do  you  suppose  things  will  settle  down  there  ?  " 

"  Quietly,  I  think,  though  it  won't  be  a  paradise  for 
some  time  yet,"  returned  Ix'oble. 

After  the  lecture  was  over,  our  friends  went  to  the 
hotel.  They  had  just  arrived  that  day  from  the  east 
on  some  business  matters,  and  had  reached  the  city  in 
time  to  hear  Lincoln's  lecture.  Both  of  them  were  de 
sirous  of  getting  the  pulse  of  the  people  in  tnis  section 
on  the  great  question  which  was  agitating  the  nation. 

"  Cap'n  John  Brown  created  a  great  sensation  in 
Kansas,  didn't  he  ?  "  Willard  asked  of  the  hotel  pro 
prietor. 

"  That's  what  folks  say/' 

'Think  he'll  ever  succeed  in  freeing  the  slaves?" 

"  So  he  claims." 

"  How  do  you  think  Buchanan  is  getting  on  ?  " 

"Getting  on?  He  acts  like  a  traitor  to  the  gov 
ernment." 

"  Do  you  think  Lincoln  \vill  beat  Douglass  for  the 
Senate  ?  " 

"  No  one  can  tell  yet ;  both  sides  say  they  are  going  to 
win."  % 

"  What's  your  opinion  of  Lincoln,  sir?" 

"  O,  we  believe  in  him  here.  Mark  my  words,  sir, 
that  man  will  help  to  settle  the  slavery  question." 

"  I  hope  so,"  exclaimed  Aldrich.  "  Is  he  generally 
considered  a  strong  man  ?  " 

'Yes,  sir,  he's  a  well-known  statesman  here;  is  self- 
made  ;  never  went  to  school  much,  but  has  read  and  prac 
tised  law.  He  is  so  honest  that  he  won't  tell  a  lie  in  a 
lawsuit.  If  he  thinks  a  would-be  client  has  the  wrong 
side  of  a  case,  he  won't  take  it.  Some  think  he  is  ambi 
tious  to  rise  in  the  world,  but  looks  at  poMtical  questions 
in  a  kind  of  philosophical  way,  and  doesn't  worry  about 
things  much.  He's  a  great  story-teller,  gentlemen.  He 
got  off  some  of  his  yarns  to-night,  they  say,  though  not 
so  many  as  usual." 


236  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I'm  glad  we've  heard  him,"  said  Willard  to  Noble. 

"  So  am  I,"  was  the  response. 

It  is  now  well  known  that  when  the  Lincoln-Douglass 
contest  was  decided,  though  Lincoln  secured  the  popular 
vote,  Douglass  was  re-elected  to  the  Senate  by  the  leg 
islature.  The  vote  was  fifty-four  to  fortv-six  in  favor  of 
Douglass.  After  the  strong  canvass  which  he  had  made, 
there  would  naturally  come  the  sting  of  personal  defeat. 
Yet  it  is  a  fact  that  he  regarded  the  struggle  as  more 
than  a  passing  scramble  for  office.  On  November  iy, 
1858,  he  wrote  to  his  friend : 

"  You  doubtless  have  seen  the  result  of  the  election 
here.  Of  course  I  wished,  but  did  not  much  expect  a 
better  result.  ...  I  am  glad  I  made  the  late  race.  It 
gave  me  a  hearing  on  the  great  and  durable  question 
of  the  age,  which  I  could  have  had  in  no  other  way ;  and 
though  I  now  sink  out  of  view,  and  shall  be  forgotten, 
I  believe  I  have  made  some  marks  which  will  tell  for  the 
cause  of  liberty,  long  after  I  am  gone." 

To  another  friend  he  wrote : 

"  Yours  of  the  I3th  received  some  days  ago.  The  fight 
must  go  on ;  the  cause  of  civil  liberty  must  not  be 
surrendered  at  the  end  of  one  or  even  one  hundred 
defeats.  Douglass  had  the  ingenuity  to  be  supported  in 
the  late  contest,  both  as  the  be.^t  means  to  break  clown, 
and  to  uphold  the  slave  interest.  No  ingenuity  can 
keep  these  antagonistic  elements  in  harmony  long.  An 
other  explosion  will  soon  come." 

One  day  Frank  Noble  called  on  Willard  Aldrich  at 
Glentown  and  said :  "  Aldrich,  here  is  a  biography  of 
Lincoln  which  the  children  may  like  to  read.  I  got  it 
through  Henry  Wilson." 

"  Thank  you,  Noble.    I  will  see  that  you  get  it  again." 

"  There's  no  hurry  about  it ;  take  your  own  time,"  was 
the  answer. 

When  Rachel  and  the  boys  had  read  the  now  familiar 
facts  about  the  youth  of  the  great  Westerner,  Rachel 
said:  "  He  didn't  have  to  study  Latin,  did  he,  papa?  " 

"  He  had  to  study  law,"  shouted  Wendell,  now  some 
thirteen  years  of  age,  "  and  that's  worse  than  Latin." 

"  Wait  till  you  study  it,  young  man,  and  then  see," 


The  Western  Orator.  237 

returned  Rachel.  "  I'd  like  to  see  this  Mr.  Lincoln,"  she 
continued. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  some  day,"  answered  Margaret. 
"  The  love  for  his  mother  was  a  beautiful  element  in  his 
character,"  she  continued.  "  Mr.  Noble  says  that  though 
she  died  when  he  was  ten  years  old,  they  were  devotedly 
attached  to  each  other,  and  also  that  he  loved  his  step 
mother  greatly,  and  often  speaks  of  her  as  his  '  saintly 
mother,'  and  his  '  angel  of  a  mother.'  ' 

"  Mr.  Noble  also  said  that  he  was  a  great  reader," 
spoke  up  Willard.  "  When  a  boy,  he  read  '  Aesop's 
Fables,'  '  Robinson  Crusoe/  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  and 
the  '  Life  of  Washington/  till  he  almost  knew  them  by 
heart." 

"  I've  read  all  those  books  myself,"  said  fair  Rachel. 

"  I've  read  part  of  them,"  echoed  Wendell. 

"  So  have  I,"  piped  little  Martin  Luther. 

"  Why,  Martin  Luther,  what  a  whopper,"  cried  Wen 
dell. 

"  'Tain't  no  whopper  either,"  shot  back  young  Martin ; 
"  didn't  I  read  part  of  '  Robinson  Crusoe/  mama?  " 

"  Yes,  you  read  some  of  it ;  don't  quarrel,  boys." 

"  He  began  it,"  said  Wendell. 

"  I  didn't  either,"  replied  Martin,  "  you  contradicted 
me,  and  told  a  wrong  story,  so  there !  " 

"  Hush,  boys,"  said  Willard,  "  you  must  not  be  so 
easily  irritated ;  always  be  pleasant  and  kind  and  then 
you  will  be  happy." 

"Did  Mr.  Lincoln  like  music  and  poetry?"  asked 
Rachel. 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  replied  her  father,  "  and  he  said 
in  his  boyhood  days  that  some  day  he  should  be  President 
of  the  United  States." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  ever  will  ?  "  asked  Wendell. 

"  Stranger  things  have  happened,"  replied  Willard. 

"  Chester  Nye  says  Mr.  Lincoln  is  nothing  but  a  rail 
splitter,"  sang  out  young  Martin. 

"  Young  Mr.  Nye  doesn't  know  so  much  as  he  might," 
spoke  up  Rachel. 

"  He  knows  enough  to  come  and  see  you  if  you  art 
only  seventeen,"  responded  the  saucy  Wendell. 


238  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XLVL 

HORACE   AT   SEAVIEW. 

WHEN  Horace  and  John  Brown  were  leaving  Kansas, 
after  the  border  troubles  had  somewhat  subsided,  they 
liberated  a  slave  named  "  Jim,"  his  family  and  five  other 
slaves,  from  Missouri.  A  furious  excitement  followed. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  latest  news  ?  "  said  Horace  to 
the  Captain  one  day. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  questioned  Brown. 

"  The  Government  of  Missouri  has  offered  a  reward 
of  three  thousand  dollars  for  your  arrest,  and  President 
Buchanan  two  hundred  and  fifty  more." 

"  Money  is  plenty,  I  perceive,"  said  Brown. 

"  It  has  been  reported  that  the  slave  population  in  this 
section  has  been  reduced  from  five  hundred  to  fifty  by 
removal  since  we  liberated  the  slaves,"  returned  Horace. 

'  The  end   is  not  yet,"   replied   Brown. 

"  Some  of  our  friends  think  we  ought  not  to  do  this 
work,"  said  Horace. 

"  We  must  be  our  own  judges  of  what  is  right,  Fuller." 

"  Certainly,  Captain,"  Horace  answered. 

In  January,  1859,  Brown  was  pursued  by  forty-two 
ruffians.  With  Horace  and  six  other  men,  near  Atchin- 
son,  he  suddenly  issued  from  the  woods  in  order  of 
battle. 

:'  The  Abolitionists  have  turned  on  us,"  cried  the  val 
orous  pursuers,  and  ran  for  their  lives. 

Not  a  shot  was  fired,  and  all  but  four  of  the  men 
were  soon  lost  to  view.  Brown  made  these  four  prisoners. 

"  Dismount  and  give  your  horses  to  these  negroes," 
commanded  Brown. 

"  Not  by  a  long  shot,"  answered  the  men  with  oaths. 


Horace  at  Seaview.  239 

"  Silence !  "  thundered  Brown ;  "  no  blasphemy  shall  be 
permitted  in  my  presence." 

The  men  swore  harder  and  louder  than  ever. 

"  Get  off  those  horses,"  cried  Horace,  drawing  his 
saber. 

The  men  dismounted. 

"  Kneel !  "  exclaimed  the  old  Puritan,  suddenly  pre 
senting  his  pistol.  The  ruffians  knelt. 

"  Now  pray !     Speak  up  good  and  strong." 

"  I'll  never  pray,  you  cussed  old  hypocrite,"  cried  one. 

Brown  drew  his  sword,  still  holding  his  pistol  in  his 
left  hand.  "  We'll  see  about  that,"  he  answered.  This 
being  their  first  attempt  in  religious  lines  for  some  years, 
it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  they  would  be  brilliantly 
successful ;  but  Brown,  aided  by  Horace,  kept  at  them 
till  they  were  obedient  and  docile.  None  of  them  swore 
again  in  Brown's  presence,  though  he  held  them  prison 
ers  for  five  days  and  compelled  them  to  pray  night  and 
morning.  They  were  finally  liberated  and  returned  to 
the  city.  One  day  one  of  them  was  verdant  enough  to 
say :  "  That  devilish  old  Puritan  made  us  pray  night  and 
morning  while  we  were  prisoners,  and  Fuller  held  pistols 
at  our  heads  during  the  operation." 

"  Ha !  ha !  that's  a  good  one,  Tom.  Boys,  hear  this," 
and  the  man  repeated  the  story.  The  crowd  burst  into 
a  loud  laugh  and  the  derision  was  so  great  that  the  men 
left  and  never  returned. 

The  news  reached  Horace  and  he  said  to  Brown : 
"  Mighty  green  Southerners  to  tell  that  story,  Captain." 

"  So  I  should  say,"  laughed  Brown. 

The  Captain  with  Horace  and  other  members  of  the 
band  took  the  twelve  colored  people  into  Canada,  and 
there  the  band  separated,  Brown  visiting  his  family  at 
North  Elba.  Horace  decided  not  to  return  home  with 
him.  They  were  forming  plans  which  would  mature 
later,  and  he  decided  to  visit  his  Uncle  James  at  Seaview, 
and  meet  Brown  in  Boston  about  the  first  of  June. 

One  noon,  when  James  went  to  dinner,  a  fine-looking 
man  about  thirty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  rather  rough 
clothes,  waited  for  him  in  the  parlor. 

"  Uncle  James,  how  do  you  do?  " 


240  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  \Yliy,  Horace  Fuller,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you. 
Where  have  you  been  and  where  did  you  come  from?" 

"  I've  been  in  Kansas,  uncle,  fighting  for  liberty." 

"  Jesse  wrote  me  you  had  gone  to  Kansas ;  have  you 
been  home  since?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't  heard  from  home  very  often,  but  de 
cided  to  visit  you  and  go  to  Boston  before  I  returned." 

'  Things  settling  down  in  Kansas  ? "  questioned 
James. 

"  Somewhat,"  was  the  answer. 

"  James,"  said  Lucy  opening  the  door,  "  dinner  is 
ready." 

"  I'm  right  glad  you've  come,"  said  Mr.  Fuller  as  he 
conducted  his  guest  to  the  table. 

John  Gardiner,  now  four  years  old,  sat  in  his  high 
chair,  while  Charles  Stunner,  twro  years  his  junior,  lay 
in  his  crib  taking  a  noonday  nap. 

"Don't  you  have  any  news  from  home?"  inquired 
James. 

"I've  only  had  three  letters  since  I  left;  one  from 
Ada,  one  from  father,  and  the  last  one  from  Marion. 
You  see  I  have  been  going  from  place  to  place,  and  it 
was  good  fortune  that  I  got  those.  It  seems  strange  to 
me,  but  all  of  those  letters  were  mailed  in  Albany.  How 
in  the  world  it  happened,  I  can't  see." 

"  In  Albany  ?  Isn't  that  a  long  distance  from  West- 
port  ?  " 

"  Almost  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles,"  was  the 
answer. 

"Mr.  Horace,  we  are  all  interested  in  your  family; 
may  I  ask  after  Marion?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Marion  is  very  well,  and  a.  greatly  changed  woman 
since  her  trouble.  It  was  a  strange  thing  that  Lawrence 
Lyons  should  get  here,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  strange,"  replied  Lucy ;  "  but  wasn't  he  fine 
looking?  " 

"  He  looked  well  enough,"  answered  Horace,  "  but  he 
was  the  worst  villain  I  ever  saw.  I  won't  except  those 
slaveholding  ruffians  in  Kansas,  or  even  Bill  Jenks,  the 
desperado  of  Keene." 

"  Bill  Jcnks?  "  shouted  James  and  Lucy  in  one  breath. 


Horace  at  Seaview.  241 

"  Yes,  Bill  Jenks,  who  has  lived  up  in  our  section 
nearly  ten  years  now.  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  know  a  man  by  that  name  many  years  ago," 
said  James,  with  a  shudder.  "  He  nearly  killed  me 
once." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  returned  Horace.  "  This  man  lives 
with  a  woman  called  Nance,  but  whether  she  is  his  wife 
appears  in  doubt." 

"  Nance  Billings,  I'll  be  bound,"  cried  James ;  "  and 
you  say  they've  been  there  nearly  ten  years?" 

"  Yes,  my  attention  was  first  called  to  him  when  he 
knocked  down  George  Sweet,  whom  you  helped  up 
there  when  you  were  stationmaster  on  the  underground 
railroad." 

"George  Sweet?"  echoed  James ;  "and  how  does  he 
get  on  ?  " 

"  Fairly  well  before  I  left,  but  the  negroes  are  having 
a  hard  time  farming  in  the  mountains ;  the  climate  is  too 
cold  for  them." 

"  There  goes  that  dreadful  shop  bell,"  said  Lucy.. 

"  Well,  Horace,  you'll  have  to  excuse  me ;  make  your 
self  comfortable  with  Lucy  and  the  children  this  after 
noon.  I'll  try  to  get  out  early  to-night;  I've  many 
things  to  ask,  and  we'll  have  a  good  time  together  this 
evening,"  and  out  he  went. 

Lucy  tried  to  be  cordial  with  Horace. 

"  How  old  is  little  Ray  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Ray  must  be  about  nine  years  old,  I  think,"  an 
swered  Horace. 

''  You  said  Marion  is  greatly  changed?  " 

"  Yes,  nothing  like  the  old  gay,  imperious  sister.  Ada 
has  had  a  great  influence  over  her  for  good,  and  a  broken 
life  has  completely  revolutionized  her  character.  She 
rarely  left  the  house  for  several  years  after  her  return, 
but  the  last  few  years  has  acted  the  good  Samaritan  to 
all  those  in  need ;  has  nursed  sick  people,  looked  out  for 
the  wants  of  the  poor  of  the  neighborhood,  and  if  a  girl 
tempted  to  be  headstrong  and  wilful  regarding  love 
matters  comes  to  her  knowledge,  she  is  sure  to  exert  an 
influence  which  is  most  helpful.  She  occasionally  even 
goes  up  in  the  Glens  where  the  colored  people  are,  carry- 
16 


242  Love  and  Liberty. 

ing  supplies,  and  sometimes  stays  two  or  three  days, 
ministering  to  their  necessities." 

"  How  beautiful/'  exclaimed  Lucy,  "  that  she  can  aid 
others  in  such  ways." 

"  Yes,  I  feel  quite  confident  that  Marion's  misfor 
tunes,  transforming  her  character,  will  continue  to  be  of 
great  service  to  others  who  are  tempte^  and  troubled. 
We  have  never  persuaded  her  to  attend  public  services 
at  church — at  least  had  not  when  I  left  home ;  but  our 
minister  told  me  before  I  came  away  that  her  kind  deeds 
and  loving  ministrations  had  won  the  hearts  of  nearly 
the  whole  community.  Those  whom  she  has  helped  call 
her  their  '  good  angel.'  ' 

"  I  hope  she  will  come  and  see  us  at  Seaview,"  re 
turned  Lucy. 

"  I  doubt  if  she  wrill,"  was  the  answer ;  "  she  is  very 
much  of  a  recluse. 

"  Is  she  as  beautiful  as  ever?''  asked  Lucy. 

"  I  am  not  a  fair  judge,  of  course,"  returned  Horace, 
"  but  a  friend  of  mine,  who  is  called  an  expert  in  those 
matters,  told  me  some  time  since,  that  she  is  the  most 
beautiful  woman  he  ever  saw,  though  there  is  a  sad 
expression  on  her  face  most  of  the  time ;  she  rarely 
smiles." 

James  came  home  in  good  season,  and  with  Horace, 
occupied  the  parlor  while  Lucy  attended  to  her  domestic 
duties. 

"  Uncle  James,"  said  Horace,  "  I  wish  to  speak  with 
you  concerning  a  scheme  of  John  Brown's  to  free  the 
slaves." 

"  I  am  interested  in  that  question,"  said  James.  "  What 
are  Brown's  plans  ?  " 

"  About  a  year  ago,"  answered  Horace,  "  we  assem 
bled  in  a  negro  church  at  Chatham,  Canada  West,  and  at 
the  convention  adopted  a  '  Provisional  Constitution  and 
Ordinances  for  the  People  of  the  United  States.' 

"  John  Brown  was  chosen  Commandcr-in-Chief,  J.  H. 
Kagi,  Secretary  of  War,  Owen  Brown  (son  of  John), 
Treasurer,  and  myself  Secretary  of  State;  the  plan  is 
to  go  to  some  Southern  state,  and  commence  operations 
to  aid  slaves  to  escape.  We  shall  probably  have  to  cap- 


Horace  at  Seaview.  243 

ture  some  guns  and  ammunition,  and  get  the  slaves  to 
assist  us  in  working  out  their  freedom." 

"Do  you  think  such  a  course  will  be  wise?"  asked 
James.  "  God  knows,"  he  continued,  "  I  would  see  every 
slave  free,  but  such  an  attempt  as  you  indicate  I  fear 
would  be  useless." 

''  Captain  Brown  thinks  it  will  be  immediately  fol 
lowed  by  an  uprising  of  the  slaves,  and  bring  liberty  to 
them  all,"  replied  Horace. 

'  The  scheme  does  not  appeal  to  my  judgment  at  this 
time,"  answered  his  uncle. 

Horace  discussed  the  situation  at  some  length  with  his 
uncle,  but  failed  to  enlist  him  in  the  enterprise.  They 
had  a  pleasant  visit  together,  and  James  was  glad  to  see 
the  earnestness  and  devotion  of  his  nephew  to  the  cause 
of  freedom,  but  sought  in  vain  to  dissuade  him  from 
his  purpose.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  for  Horace  to  be 
in  the  home  of  James,  meet  Lucy  and  the  little  boys,  and 
hear  something  of  his  Cousin  Samuel. 

''  Next  fall,  Samuel  expects  to  enter  the  academy 
here,"  said  James,  "  and  complete  the  classical  course 
in  two  years." 

"  I  wish  him  success,"  replied  Horace. 

A  few  days  later,  he  left  for  Boston.  John  Brown 
had  been  in  New  York  City  and  Rochester,  and  met 
Horace  on  his  arrival  in  Boston.  He  had  been  learning 
to  make  crackers  in  the  New  England  metropolis,  but 
stayed  only  a  dav  or  two  after  Horace  arrived.  On  June  3, 
they  reached  Collinsville,  Ct.,  where  they  closed  a  contract 
for  a  thousand  pikes.  They  were  in  Hagerstown,  Md., 
June  30.  Brown  and  his  two  sons,  who  had  joined  him, 
registered  as  "  Smith  and  two  sons  from  New  York." 
Horace  registered  under  his  own  name.  Brown  told 
the  landlord  he  had  been  farming  in  New  York  but  was 
now  looking  for  a  milder  climate  adapted  to  wool- 
growing. 

Five  or  six  miles  from  Harper  s  Ferry,  they  found  a 
large  farm  with  three  unoccupied  houses,  the  previous 
owner,  Dr.  Booth  Kennedy,  having  died  a  few  months 
before.  They  rented  the  farm  and  houses  for  a  small 
sum,  purchased  a  lot  of  hogs  from  the  family  and  agreed 


244  Love  and  Liberty. 

to  care  for  the  stock,  which  they  faithfully  did.  Others 
joined  them  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  including  two 
of  Brown's  daughters.  One  would  go  and  another  come 
without  exciting  any  remark.  They  paid  cash  for  all 
they  got  and  spent  much  of  their  time  hunting  (?)  in 
the  mountains,  though  it  was  afterward  remembered 
that  they  never  brought  home  any  game.  Twigs  and 
branches  were  found  bent  in  a  peculiar  manner.  The 
band  said  it  was  the  custom  of  Indians  thus  to  mark  the 
way  in  order  to  find  one's  way  safely  back,  and  they 
practised  the  custom.  Men  came  secretly  with  arms  and 
ammunition  packed  in  well  secured  boxes.  Not  a  meal 
was  eaten  on  the  farm  when  Brown  was  present,  without 
first  asking  God's  blessing,  and  the  Bible  was  in  daily  use. 


Who  was  the  Murderer  ?  245 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

WHO  WAS  THE   MURDERER? 

THE  day  after  Horace  left  Keene  was  an  eventful  day 
in  that  community.  Westport  and  all  the  surrounding 
towns  were  greatly  excited  over  the  death  of  Lawrence 
Lyons.  He  had  not  been  a  favorite  with  a  majority  of 
people,  but  he  had  his  friends,  and  because  of  his  father's 
wealth,  outward  respect  had  been  shown  to  him  and  the 
family.  "Who  did  the  dreadful  deed?"  was  a  question 
on  many  lips.  Some  were  sure  that  Horace  Fuller  was 
the  guilty  man.  "  Didn't  that  knife  have  his  initials  on 
it  ?  "  "  Hadn't  he  attempted  to  kill  Lawrence  before  ?  " 
"  Didn't  he  start  professedly  for  Kansas  that  very 
night  ?  "  There  was  a  chain  of  evidence,  which  many 
said  could  not  be  broken.  On  the  other  hand,  some  said : 
"  Horace  has  been  planning  for  months  to  go  to  Kansas 
to  help  the  free  state  men."  "  He  was  all  the  time  lending 
his  tools  to  others,  and  that's  why  he  marked  them." 
"  Horace  Fuller  is  too  honorable  a  man  to  do  such  a 
thing  in  the  dark,"  said  they.  Many  years  had  passed 
since  the  duel,  and  some  had  heard  Hora.ce  say  that  he 
was  glad,  notwithstanding  all  Lyons'  villainy,  that  he 
had  recovered  from  his  wound. 

So  opinion  was  about  equally  divided.  The  sheriff's 
unsuccessful  search  for  Horace  produced  disappoint 
ment  to  many,  while  some  began  to  search  nearer  home 
for  the  murderer. 

Edgar  Parsons,  who  had  been  second  for  Horace  in 
the  duel,  said : 

"  Horace  Fuller  never  killed  Lawrence ;  you'll  find 
your  criminal  not  far  away  from  Keene  though,  unless 
he  gets  out  before  you  catch  him." 

The  funeral  of  Lawrence  was  held  in  the  church  at 


246  Love  and  Liberty. 

Westport,  which  the  Lyons  family  attended.  It  was 
thronged  by  a  great  crowd  and  nearly  the  whole  village 
followed  the  remains  to  the  cemetery. 

Mrs.  Lyons  was  not  able  to  go.  A  relative  from 
Massachusetts  had  come  to  stay  with  her  for  a  while. 
The  poor  mother  raved  terribly  and  could  not  be  trusted 
out  of  sight.  Air.  Lyons  was  at  the  funeral  looking  ten 
years  older ;  the  strong  man  was  broken  with  grief,  and 
tears  coursed  down  his  cheeks. 

One  day  before  the  murder,  Nance  said  to  Bill  Jenks : 
"  Bill,  you've  got  to  go  to  doin'  somethin' ;  you've  lazed 
round  'bout  long  'nough ;  I  ain't  got  a  quarter  to  my  name 
an'  they  won't  trust  us  no  more  to  that  store,  'cause  we 
ain't  paid  the  old  score." 

"Do  somethin'  for  yerself,  blast  yer  gizzard;  yer  all 
the  time  pickin'  on  ter  me,"  snapped  Bill. 

"  Ye  shut  up  yer  head.  Bill  Jenks;  I've  stood  yer  sass 
an'  laziness  'bout  long's  I'm  goin'  ter,  so  there." 

"  Ye  have,  have  ye?  "  sneered  Bill.  "  \Yhat  yer  goin' 
ter  do  'bout  it,  hey  ?  " 

"  I'll  have  ye  Vested  for  some  o'  yer  past  thieveries, 
that's  what  I'll  do.  Ye  haven't  earned  yer  salt  since  we 
cum  ter  Keene,  nigh  on  ter  nine  years  now  ;  all  ye's  ever 
brought  in's  been  by  thievin',"  and  Xance  placed  herself 
wrathfully  before  the  lazy  Bill. 

"  Go  ahead,  old  gal,  and  see  what  yer  make  on't,"  re 
turned  the  partner  of  her  joys. 

Nevertheless,  a  lucky  thought  had  struck  Bill.  "  I 
heern  tell,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  'bout  young  Lyons 
winnin'  a  pile  o'  stakes  from  Ras.  Hall  what  keeps  that 
gambling  place  in  Wes'port.  Mcbbc  I  kin  share  with  'im, 
ha!  ha!"  and  burly  Bill  laughed  in  his  glee,  and  his 
laugh  sounded  like  the  laugh  of  demons. 

Bill  passed  by  Jesse  Fuller's  on  his  way  to  Westport. 
By  the  roadside  lay  a  butcher  knife  marked  "  II.  F." 
"Lucky  dog,  I,"  chuckled  Bill;  "guess  Fll  slip  this 
inter  my  pocket ;  may  cum  handy,  by  gum." 

No  one  saw  him  take  the  knife  which  had  been  left  or 
accidentally  dropped  where  Bill  found  it. 

Toward  night,  he  came  into  \Yestport.     He'd  been  to 


Who  was  the  Murderer  ?  247 

Ras.  Hall's  himself  before  now,  but  as  he  never  had 
much  money,  he  never  won  much. 

As  it  happened,  passing  along  the  street,  whom  should 
he  see  apparently  coming  from  Hall's  shop  but  Lawrence 
himself. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Lyons  ?  "  sung  out  Bill. 

"  How  are  you,  Bill  ?  "  responded  Lawrence. 

Bill  was  well  known  as  a  peculiar  character  all  through 
that  section  of  country. 

"  Mister  Lyons,"  said  Bill  in  a  confidential  tone, 
"  'ave  ye  been  to  Hall's?  " 

"  Yes,  been  in  there  a  little  while.  Why  do  you  ask 
that?" 

"  Well,  ye  see  I've  got  somethin'  to  tell  yer,  but  it's 
a  mi'ty  big  secret,  Boss,"  and  Bill  edged  up  closer  to 
Lawrence. 

"  Secret,  is  it  ?  "  said  Lawrence  good-naturedly.  He 
was  feeling  well,  for,  though  Bill  knew  it  not,  he  had 
just  won  another  cool  thousand  from  Ras.  Hall.  Law 
rence  never  played  for  small  stakes.  "  Gentlemen,"  he 
said,  "  never  did." 

"  Purty  Marion  wants  to  see  ye,"  whispered  Bill. 

"  Marion  be  hanged,"  blurted  Lawrence ;  "  I've  had  all 
I  want  of  her  and  her  trash." 

"  She  sent  me  ter  tell  yer  enyhow,  by  gum,  Boss.  She 
likes  ye  all  ther  time." 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,  Bill,  with  your  confounded  non 
sense,"  and  Lyons  attempted  to  pass  on. 

"  All  right,  Boss,  jest  as  ye  like,"  and  Bill  moved 
away. 

Then  it  occurred  to  Lawrence :  "  Why  not  find  out  if 
there  was  any  truth  in  what  Bill  was  saying?  "  He  hadn't 
spoken  to  Marion  since  her  child  was  born.  In  all  these 
years  he  had  often  wondered  how  she  looked,  and  if  all 
the  love  she  used  to  have  for  him  had  really  departed. 

"  Come  here,  Bill,"  said  Lawrence,  and  Bill  was 
soon  at  his  side  again. 

"  Don't  you  tell  me  any  lies ;  if  you  do  'twill  be  the 
worse  for  you,  sir." 

"  I'm  tellin'  ye  the  born  truth,  Mister  Lyons;  Marion 
wants  to  see  yer  little  this  side  'Bijah  Jones'  house  'bout 


248  Love  and  Liberty. 

ten  o'clock  to-night,  an'  I  cum  down  on  purpose  to  tell 
ye,  by  gum.  I'll  go  with  yer,  Boss,  then  ye'll  sec  it's 
no  lie ;  hope  to  die  if  'tain't  so,"  and  burly  Bill  looked  as 
truthful  as  he  knew  how." 

"  All  right,  go  in  here.  Bill,  and  get  something  to  eat ; 
I'll  get  a  horse  and  carriage  from  the  stable ;  we'll  take 
a  drive  and  get  round  there  at  the  time  you  name,"  and 
Bill  went  into  the  eating  saloon  for  supper  while  Law 
rence  went  to  his  home.  On  his  return,  Lawrence  ques 
tioned  Bill  further,  and  he  told  a  pretty  good  story. 
Lawrence  went  out  for  the  stable  team. 

"  Going  over  to  Smith's  for  the  horse  now ;  I'll  be  back 
soon,"  he  said  to  Bill  as  he  went  out. 

"  By  gum,  he  swallers  that  bait  purty  good,  don't  he 
tho'?"  soliloquized  Bill.  "  How'll  I  do  next,  blast  it 
all?  I  mus'  git  them  spondulix,  no  mistake,  but  'twon't 
do  to  git  ketched." 

"  Here,  Bill,  take  a  cigar,"  said  Lawrence  as  he  re 
turned. 

"  Thank  ye,  Mister,"  said  Bill. 

"  Horse  is  over  to  stable  all  ready ;  come  on,"  and  out 
they  went. 

About  ten  o'clock  they  came  to  the  place  designated 
by  Bill  at  the  roadside. 

"  There's  the  place,"  whispered  Bill.  Lawrence  turned 
his  head.  As  he  did  so,  Bill  struck  him  a  savage  blow 
with  a  short  club  which  had  been  .secreted  under  his 
coat.  Lawrence  gave  a  cry,  and  fell  from  the  carriage 
to  the  ground.  Bill  was  on  top  of  him  before  he  could 
rise. 

"  I'll  take  ver  money,  Boss,  by  gum,"  said  Bill  as  he 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  victim's  pocket. 

"  You  will,  will  you  ?  "  cried  Lawrence,  coming  to  his 
senses,  and  realizing  how  Bill  had  duped  him.  "  Not 
much,  you  jail-bird  ;  I'll  put  you  under  cover  for  this 
job  where  you  won't  get  out  for  one  while,"  and  he 
struggled  desperately  with  his  assailant. 

"  Be  quiet,  Boss,  I  don't  want  ter  harm  ye ;  all  I  want 
is  yer  spondulix ;  hand  over.  Mister,  an'  Bill  won't  hurt 
ye.  Nance  says  we've  got  ter  have  somethin'  ter  live  on, 
so  there." 


Who  was  the  Murderer  ?  249 

But  Lawrence  was  a  lively  fellow.  He  knew  that  his 
struggles  might  bring  on  that  bleeding  of  the  lungs,  but 
it  was  possibly  life  or  death  with  him,  and  he  struck  at 
Bill  with  all  his  force.  Bill  dodged  the  blow  and  said : 
"  Hold  still,  by  gum,  I  don't  want  ter  du  ye  harm,  I  say : 
ye've  got  money  'nough,  help  out  Bill,  and  ye  kin  go." 

But  Lawrence  had  no  intention  of  holding  still,  or  of 
giving  his  money  to  Bill.  He  clutched  him  by  the  throat 
and  in  spite  of  his  burly  form,  Bill*  began  to  get  the 
worst  of  it.  He  couldn't  speak  with  that  clutch  on  his 
throat,  but  he  thought :  "  I  hate  ter  du  it ;  he's  a  likely 
fellar,  but  I  can't  let  him  choke  me,  dang  it  all." 

However,  he  really  made  a  strong  effort  to  free  him 
self,  and  when  he  exerted  himself,  Bill  was  a  powerful 
fellow.  But  the  clutch  on  his  throat  was  terrible ;  he 
could  not  snake  it  off,  and  in  his  desperation,  he  took  from 
his  pocket  the  knife  which  he  had  picked  up  that  after 
noon  near  Jesse  Fuller's  place,  and  plunged  it  into  the 
side  of  Lawrence.  His  victim  gave  a  terrible  groan, 
which  made  even  Bill  Jenks  shudder,  but  the  clutch 
on  his  throat  relaxed.  He  pulled  out  the  knife  cov 
ered  with  bright  blood ;  the  groaning  ceased ;  Law 
rence  was  dead.  Bill  was  seriously  disturbed.  "  I 
d'clare  I'm  sorry,  I  didn't  mean  ter  du  it,  blast  it ; 
he's  a  likely  chap;  what  ailed  'urn,  poor  fellar?  If 
he'd  only  let  up  on  me,"  soliloquized  Bill.  "  No  help 
for  it  now.  Boss,  ye're  a  goner,  sure.  Here's  the 
money,"  and  Bill  took  out  the  rolls  of  bank-bills.  He'd 
never  seen  so  much  before. 

"  More'n  a  thousand  dollars,  I'll  bet.  Here's  a  white 
paper ;  somethin'  'bout  five  hundred  on  this  'ere,  by  gum," 
and  Bill  grabbed  the  draft,  and  slipped  it  with  the  bills 
and  wallet  into  his  pocket. 

He  laid  the  bleeding  body  up  on  the  side  of  the  road 
and  placed  the  bloody  knife  close  by.  "  H.  I7.,"  said  Bill. 
"  I'm  in  dead  luck,  sure,  dang  it  all.  Folks'll  all  say 
Horace  Fuller  did  it,  by  gum,  'cause  he  shot'm  once. 
Bill,  Bill,  ye're  a  coon,  sure.  My !  guess  Nance'll  open 
her  eyes  at  this  'ere  pile,"  and  Bill  jumped  into  the  car 
riage,  drove  further  up  the  road,  carefully  turned  round 
and  drove  the  horse  back  into  Westport,  delivering  it  to 


250  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  boy  at  the  stable.  Early  next  morning",  Bill  reached 
home  and  went  to  bed. 

"  I  won't  tell  Nance  'bout  this  spondulix ;  she'll  ask- 
where  I  got  it,"  thought  Bill,  as  he  tried  to  go  to  sleep. 
But  Bill  couldn't  get  to  sleep.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  didn't 
feel  very  comfortable.  He  had  been  in  many  a  row  and 
robbery  was  an  old  story  with  him,  but  with  all  his  crim 
inal  proceedings,  he  had  never  killed  anybody  before,  and 
the  thought  of  Laxvrence  lying  in  his  blood,  after  having 
been  drawn  to  his  death  by  Bill's  falsehood,  and  after 
struggling  desperately  for  his  life,  created  an  unpleasant 
impression  on  him. 

"  Dang  it  all !  "  thought  Bill,  "  he  oughter  kep'  still ; 
I  hated  ter  du  it  awful.  Blast  it  all,  there's  takin'  back 
that  'ere  hoss,  s'pose  that'll  make  'em  suspicion  me?" 
and  Bill's  heart  sank  as  this  new  danger  was  pressed 
upon  his  attention.  The  next  three  days  Bill  lay  low. 
When  Nance  told  him  the  report  that  Horace  Fuller  had 
killed  Lawrence  and  run  away  to  Kansas,  Bill's  heart 
gave  a  leap.  "Run  'way  to  Kansas?"  questioned  he. 
"  By  gum,  he'd  better  run  som'ers  arter  that  job,  eh, 
Nance  ? '' 

"Have  ye  got  any  money  yit,  Bill?"  asked  Nance. 
"  Ye  know  what  I  told  yer." 

"  Yes,  I  have,  old  gal ;  there's  five  dollars  for  ye, 
Nance.  Now,  what  ye  say  ter  Bill  ?  " 

"  Where'd  ye  steal   it?" 

"  Steal  it,  old  lady  f  I  won  it  down  ter  Hall's  s'loon 
ter  Wes'port." 

"  That's  a  likely  story,"  answered  Nance.  Neverthe 
less,  she  pocketed  the  money  with  a  grin. 

The  day  Lawrence  was  buried,  Edgar  Parsons  told 
some  one  that  Bill  Jenks  of  Keene  came  back  with  the 
horse  that  Lawrence  hired  early  in  the  evening,  the  night 
he  met  his  death. 

"  Bill  Jenks !  "  exclaimed  the  deputy-sheriff,  when  he 
heard  the  news.  "Why  didn't  I  think  of  him  before? 
I'll  warrant  he's  the  murderer,"  and  he  started  for  Bill's 
home. 


What  Rachel  Said.  251 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

WHAT    RACHEL    SAID. 

"GooD  evening,  Miss  Rachel;  I've  come  over  to  see 
you  and  bid  you  good-by  before  you  go  to  that  wonder 
ful  boarding-school." 

The  speaker  was  Henry  Nye's  son,  Chester,  whom  we 
have  met  before  in  this  history. 

"  Walk  right  in,  Mr.  Nye.  I  go  to-morrow,  and  I'm 
glad  to  see  you,"  answered  Miss  Rachel. 

Chester  walked  in  and  took  a  seat.  He  was  now  over 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  a  good-hearted  young  fellow, 
dead  in  love  with  Rachel,  with  whom  he  had  played  and 
associated  all  his  life. 

"  Did  you  read  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  '  ?  "  asked  Rachel. 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  and  liked  it.  Topsy  was  great, 
wasn't  she?  " 

"  That  she  was,  but  dear,  good  Uncle  Tom  was  the 
best  of  all,"  returned  Rachel. 

"  Miss  Rachel,  I've  come  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  Will 
you  write  to  me  while  you're  at  that  boarding-school  ?  " 

"Write  to  you?  Why,  Chester,  I'll  have  so  much  to 
do,  you  know.  I'll  have  to  write  home  every  week,  and 
there's  Clifford  Noble — 

"  Clif  Noble  better  keep  away  from  here,  I  tell  you, 
if  he  is  a  young  college  fellow.  What  in  the  world  folks 
want  to  go  to  college  for,  I  can't  see.  What  good  does 
Latin  and  Greek  do  one,  anyway?" 

"  Well,  Mr.  Nye,  really  you  don't  appreciate  the  great 
advantages  of  a  liberal  education,  I  perceive,  and  as  for 
Mr.  Noble,  you  surely  must  respect  him ;  we've  always 
been  friends,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  Rachel,  haven't  you  and  I  always  been  friends, 
too?  I've  played  with  you  before  you  can  remember. 
I  used  to  draw  you  in  your  carriage,  and  bring  you  little 


252  Love  and  Libert}'. 

playthings,  and  teach  you  to  say  cunning  words,  and  I've 
loved  you  ever  since  you  were  born,  and  I  love  you  now. 
I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you  to-night,  darling,  but  you  made 
it  all  come  out,'«  and  Chester  looked  into  the  young 
lady's  face  with  just  the  suspicion  of  a  tear  twinkling 
in  his  eye. 

"  My  good  Chester,  you  mustn't  think  so  much  of  me ; 
indeed  you  mustn't;  I'm  not  worthy  of  it.  Of  course 
we've  always  been  friends,  and  I  hope  we  always  shall 
be." 

''  Rachel,  tell  me  now,  do  you  love  me,  and  may  I  write 
to  you?  And  some  time,  you  know,  when  I  get  that 
house  all  built  that  father  has  promised  me,  would  you 
be  my  real  housekeeper,  just  as  you  used  to  be  my  make- 
believe  housekeeper  when  we  were  children?" 

"  Don't,  Chester,  dear,  don't  ask  me  such  things,  please. 
I  think  a  great  deal  of  you,  of  course,  and  you've  always 
been  a  good  friend,  but  I  can't  tell  you  about  the  love  part 
the  way  you  mean  it,  and  I  always  must  tell  the  truth. 
I'm  so  young  yet,  and  two  whole  years  more  of  school, 
and  so  many  things  to  learn  and  see  and  know,"  and 
Rachel  looked  right  into  Chester's  eyes  with  her  beauti 
ful  innocent  face  beaming  upon  him,  till  he  felt  he  must 
put  his  arms  about  her  and  kiss  her,  which  he  did,  greatly 
to  Rachel's  astonishment.  They  used  to  kiss  each  other 
as  children,  but  years  had  passed  since  Chester  had  done 
such  a  thing. 

"Why,  Chester  Nye,  what  will  I  ever  say  to  you? 
You  are  a  very  naughty  young  man.  I  didn't  give  you 
permission,  sir,  and  you  should  ask  permission  of  young 
ladies  before  you  take  such  liberties." 

"  Why,  Rachel,  we  used  to  kiss  each  other,  and  surely 
I  love  you  more  to-night  than  I  ever  did  before." 

"  Things  are  different  now,  Chester ;  we  are  young 
people,  and  we  might  do  as  children  what  would  not  be 
proper  now.  I  think  you  would  better  select  some  young 
lady  friend  beside  me  for  your  new  house.  Really  there 
are  lots  of  young  girls,  fine  ones,  too,  in  Glentown. 
There's  Grace  Brown,  as  good  as  she  can  be,  and  her 
mother  says  she's  a  lovely  housekeeper.  She'd  do  finely 
for  you,  Chester.  I'm  almost  sure  you're  fated  for  each 


What  Rachel  Said. 

other,"  and  Rachel  once  more  looked  at  the  young  gen 
tleman,  fairly  driving  him  wild  with  her  grace  and 
beauty. 

"  Rachel,  Rachel,  hear  me,  listen  to  me.  I'll  be  your 
slave  always,  always;  I'll  be  good  to  you  in  every  way; 
you  shall  have  every  comfort  I  can  give.  Only  say 
yes.  You  can  go  to  school  as  long  as  you  wish,  but  prom 
ise  me  some  time.  If  I  let  you  go  away  without  a  prom 
ise,  some  of  those  academy  fellows  will  steal  your  heart 
away  from  me ;  I  know  they  will ;  say  yes,  Rachel." 

"  I  can't,  Chester ;  you  must  not  ask  me  further.  I 
do  not  know  my  own  heart  yet,  but  so  far  as  I  do  know  it, 
you  have  nothing  to  hope  for  in  that  way  from  me, 
though  I'm  very  sorry  to  say  it,  Chester.  I  wouldn't 
hurt  or  grieve  you  at  all,  if  I  could  help  it  You  know  I 
would  not.  I'm  only  eighteen  years  old,  and  no  promise 
to  any  one  can  be  given  yet." 

So  Chester  Nye  had  to  go  away  without  very  much 
encouragement  from  his  long-time  playmate.  Finally, 
to  satisfy  him  a  little,  she  promised  to  answer  one  letter 
which  he  might  write  her.  Chester  could  hardly  believe 
it  possible,  after  all  his  cherished  hopes,  that  Rachel  did 
not  care  for  him. 

"  It's  that  Clif  Noble,  that's  what  it  is.  He's  rich, 
and  getting  educated,  and  lives  in  style.  He's  stole  her 
heart  from  me,  after  all  our  years  together,  but  whew ! 
what  a  mother  he's  got.  He'll  have  a  time  getting  Miss 
Rachel  to  relish  her,  or  any  other  young  lady,  I  reckon, 
for  that  matter,  and  now  they  say  she's  brought  home  a 
cousin  with  her  from  New  York  State  who  is  crazy  as  a 
loon  on  account  of  the  death  of  her  son. 

"  Father  says  it's  a  slaveholding  family  they  came 
from.  Got  rich  by  keeping  slaves.  My  mother's  worth 
a  dozen  of  Mrs.  Noble,  if  ma  does  go  out  nursing,"  and 
young  Mr.  Nye  consoled  himself  for  his  disappointment. 

The  next  day,  when  Rachel  and  her  father  boarded 
the  train,  for  the  great  boarding-school,  who  should  get 
on  but  Clifford  Noble.  He  was  going  back  to  Brown 
Universitv  for  his  senior  year. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Noble,  I  didn't  know  you  were  going  back 
to-day,"  said  Rachel. 


254  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Xo,  I  kept  it  for  a  little  surprise,"  returned  Clifford. 

Mr.  Aldrich,  knowing  the  mutual  pleasure  these  two 
had  in  each  other's  society,  took  his  Liberator  and  went 
to  the  other  end  of  the  car,  leaving  them  together. 

"  Rachel,  my  darling,  I  am  very  glad  of  this  chance  to 
have  a  talk  with  you.  I  am  your  same  ardent  admirer 
that  I  was  three  years  ago,  when  you  wouldn't  let  me 
write  to  you." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Noble,  you  mustn't  admire  me;  I'm  just 
going  to  school,  you  know.  This  is  your  last  year  in 
college.  What  are  you  going  to  do  then,  sir?  " 

"  Now,  Puss  Aldrich,  you  needn't  try  to  turn  me  off. 
You  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  when  I  get  through 
with  college.  I'm  going  to  he  a  business  man  with 
father.  I  don't  know  when  I'll  have  another  chance  to 
see  you  alone,  and  I  must  tell  you  how  dear  you  are  to 
me." 

"Isn't  it  romantic?"  said  Rachel.  "'On  the  cars, 
bound  for  the  great  city,  a  fine  young  gentleman  just 
entering  his  senior  year  in  college  met  a  young  girl  bound 
for  boarding-school,  with  whom  he  passed  a  pleasant 
hour,  and  immediately—  How  would  it  sound  in  a 

story  book?  Can't  you  tell  me,  Clifford?  " 

"  Tell  you  you're  a  witch?  Yes.  Just  stop  your  non 
sense.  Rachel  Aldrich,  and  talk  soberly  with  me." 

"  Why,  Clifford  Xoble,  you  accuse  me  of  not  being 
sober,  a  young  girl  like  me;  I'll  have  to  speak  to  father. 
We  never  drink  anything  at  our  house  stronger  than 
tea  and  coffee,  and  not  very  much  of  these." 

"  Rachel !  Rachel !  you'll  tease  the  life  out  of  me. 
Pretty  soon  we'll  reach  Providence,  where  I  must  leave 
you.  Miss  Aldrich,  I  love  you  desperately.  There,  it's 
out ;  do  you  understand  how  much  it  means  to  me  ?  You 
are  my  star  of  hope,  my  dream  of  all  that's  pure  and 
good.  I  have  always  loved  you,  and  more  than  ever 
these  last  three  years.  I  want  your  promise  before  some 
of  those  Academy  boys  bewitch  you.  that  some  day  you'll 
be  my  own  lovely  bride,"  and  Clifford  watched  the  red 
spots  come  and  go  in  the  fair  maiden's  cheek. 

"  Oh.  Clifford,  I  didn't  wish  you  to  talk  like  this  to 
me  to-day.  Indeed  I  didn't.  I  can't  tell  you  anything 


What  Rachel  Said.  255 

now.  You  are  a  fine,  rich  young  collegiate,  and  I'm  noth 
ing  but  little  Rachel,  out  from  the  country  going  to 
school.  You'll  see  many  fine  young  ladies,  and  forget 
all  about  me.  Then,  don't  you  remember,  I  told  you  once 
that  I  love  those  poor  slaves?  I  wish  to  help  them.  My 
heart  goes  out  for  them  in  their  sufferings,  and  you  said, 
'  It's  all  right  to  make  colored  people  slaves,'  and  don't 
you  see  we  couldn't  possibly  IDC  happy  together  and  think 
so  differently.  I  desire  to  fit  myself  to  aid  the  cause  of 
liberty.  This  matter  is  a  part  of  my  life.  I  must  help 
some  way,  as  God  shall  make  it  plain,  to  '  undo  the  heavy 
burdens  and  let  the  oppressed  go  free !  ' 

"  Rachel,  dear,  we  can  settle  all  those  things  later. 
Just  give  your  promise,  darling.  You  only  are  my  hope 
and  my  love." 

"Providence!"  called  out  the  conductor. 


256  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

PURGATORY. 

AFTER  the  death  of  Lawrence,  Marion  Fuller  grew 
restless.  The  excitement  pertaining  to  the  matter,  the 
suspicion  attached  to  Horace,  the  failure  to  find  the  mur 
derer,  affected  her  strangely.  Ray  \vas  now  nine  years 
old,  and  the  mother  desired  to  go  away  from  all  these 
scenes  of  his  boyhood  and  begin  with  him  a  new  life. 
There  had  been  no  love  in  her  heart  for  Lawrence  since 
his  base  desertion  of  her,  and  Ray  did  not  know  that 
Lawrence  was  his  father.  She  feared,  however,  that  the 
boy  would  never  be  raised  with  the  best  success  where 
sooner  or  later  the  events  of  her  life  and  the  tragic  death 
of  his  father  would  surely  come  to  his  knowledge.  One 
day  she  said  to  him : 

"  Ray,  my  boy,  how  would  you  like  to  go  with  mama> 
away  from  grandpa's  and  make  ourselves  a  new  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mama,  I  would  like  that,"  said  the  child.  She 
talked  with  Jesse  and  his  wife.  They  discouraged  her 
at  first,  but  when  they  saw  how  strongly  her  mind  was 
fixed  upon  the  purpose,  they  consented. 

"  Father  and  mother,"  said  Marion,  "  I  can  never 
thank  you  enough  for  all  your  kindness  to  unworthy 
me ;  you  have  been  good  to  me  and  my  boy ;  but  it  will 
be  better,  I  think,  that  Ray  and  I  should  go.  Give  me 
a  small  sum  of  money  to  reach  our  destination  and  get 
started,  and  then  I  am  sure  God  will  help  us  to  care  for 
ourselves." 

When  she  bade  Ada  good-by,  both  of  the  sisters  were 
greatly  affected.  "  God  bless  and  go  with  you,  Marion, 
clear ;  oh,  how  can  I  ever  have  you  go !  "  exclaimed  the 
devoted  Ada. 

"  Good-by,  Ada,  you  have  been  my  salvation  and  my 
ever  good  angel.  I  will  write,  and  Ray  will  also;  and 


Purgatory.  257 

you  will  come  and  see  us  later.  Good-by,  good-by, 
God  help  you  all  and  be  with  me  and  my  boy,"  and 
Marion  broke  into  sobs  as  she  passed  to  the  carriage. 

They  went  to  Glentown,  hired  two  cozy  rooms,  and 
Marion  secured  work  part  of  each  day  in  one  of  the  new 
mills  of  the  town.  Ray  was  placed  in  school,  and  mother 
and  boy  were  very  happy  together.  She  went  by  the 
name  of  Mrs.  Fuller,  and  stated  that  Ray's  father  was 
dead,  and  they  had  come  here  because  employment  could 
easily  be  secured. 

One  day  Marion  and  Ray  went  to  walk.  It  was  in 
the  height  of  summer.  Nature  was  very  beautiful  that 
day.  It  was  Saturday.  She  was  not  at  work  and  Ray 
had  no  school,  and  they  walked  quite  a  long  distance. 
By  the  roadside  they  saw  a  sign  "  Purgatory,  one  mile." 

"  What  does  that  mean,  mama?  "  asked  Ray. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  his  mother.  "  We  will 
follow  the  road  and  see." 

Passing  through  the  path,  they  came  at  length  to  the 
rugged  ravine  mentioned  in  the  earlier  pages  of  this 
book.  As  they  emerged  from  the  path  and  saw  the  deep 
gorge,  massive  rocks  and  great  trees,  they  were  surprised 
at  the  grandeur  of  the  scene. 

"  How  black  it  looks  below !  "  cried  Ray.  "  Wouldn't 
it  be  dreadful  to  fall  down  there,  mama?  " 

"  Terrible,"  answered  his  mother,  with  a  shudder. 

Passing  down  a  narrow  path  which  led  to  a  little  pro 
jection  covered  with  bushes  some  distance  below,  they 
soon  came  to  the  little  plain,  where  a  great  rock  rose 
high  above  them. 

"  This  is  lovely  here,  my  boy ;  we  will  eat  our  lunch 
sitting  by  these  bushes.  You  must  not  go  near  the  edge." 

They  seated  themselves  on  a  stone  and  opened  the 
lunch  box. 

"Mama!  mama!  look,  see  that  woman,  she  is  jump 
ing!  Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful?"  and  little  Ray  gave  a  cry 
as  a  woman  on  the  high  rock  above  them  sprang  into 
the  air  with  a  wild  shriek  of  mad  laughter. 

In  a  moment  she  had  fallen,  turned  from  her  course 
by  the  limb  of  a  tree,  which  caught  her  dress,  and  after 
detaining  her  an  instant,  caused  her  to  drop  on  the  thick 

'7 


258  Love  and  Liberty. 

bushes  just  in  front  of  Marion  and  her  boy,  instead  of  in 
the  dreadful  gulf  below.  Marion  and  Ray  botli  rushed 
to  the  woman,  who  gave  a  strange  cry,  like  one  beside 
herself. 

"Are  you  badly  injured,  madam?  \Ye  are  providen 
tially  here  to  aid  you." 

As  Marion  looked  into  that  haggard  face,  marked  with 
suffering  and  madness,  she  was  struck  dumb  with  aston 
ishment.  For  an  instant  she  struggled  for  breath. 

Ten  years  ago,  dressed  in  silk  robes,  with  a  proud, 
scornful  eye,  this  woman  had  turned  Marion  from  her 
door  into  the  cheerless  winter  evening.  There  was  no 
mistake,  and  though  great  changes  had  come  to  her,  and 
the  matted  hair  was  gray,  and  the  face  was  scratched  and 
bleeding,  Marion  recognized  Mrs.  Lyons.  Once  she 
would  have  turned  from  her  with  horror  and  disgust, 
but  Ada  Fuller  had  taught  her  sister  the  lesson  of  for 
giveness.  At  first  the  woman  made  no  reply.  Then  her 
eye  caught  sight  of  Ray. 

"  Lawrence,  my  boy,  have  you  come  for  me?  "  she  said, 
looking  into  the  boyish  face.  Then  she  gave  a  great 
groan  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Ray,  we  must  save  her.  Bring  some  water  in 
the  box  trom  that  rill  we  passed ;  go  carefully,  carefully, 
my  boy,"  and  as  Ray  obeyed,  Marion  raised  the  sinking 
head. 

"Don't  despair,  madam;  bear  up;  I  think  we  can 
help  you.  Thank  God  you  were  not  alone." 

Ray  returned  with  the  water.  Marion  sprinkled  the 
face,  bathed  the  wrists  and  forehead,  and  smoothed  back 
her  hair  from  the  white  temples,  and  spoke  in  gentle 
voice  to  the  prostrate  woman. 

After  a  while,  she  opened  her  eyes  again,  and  they  fell 
upon  Ray. 

"  Mother's  coming,  Lawrence.  Give  me  your  hand, 
my  boy.  Kiss  your  old  mother.  There,  that's  good," 
as,  in  answer  to  his  mother's  gesture,  Ray  kissed  the 
moaning  woman's  face. 

They  moved  her  back  from  the  edge  of  the  precipice, 
raised  her  head,  washed  away  the  blood,  and  Marion 
rubbed  the  hands. 


Purgatory.  259 

"  Ray,  you  must  go  back  that  path  we  came,  to  that 
house  where  the  sign  was,  and  bring  some  men  to  help. 
Go  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  be  very  careful  not  to 
stumble  or  fall  going  up  the  cliff." 

The  boy  immediately  obeyed,  and  Marion  was  left 
alone  with  the  wounded  woman.  So  far  as  she  could 
discover,  the  woman  had  not  hit  any  rock,  and  the  bushes 
had  broken  the  fall.  How  seriously  she  was  injured, 
Marion  could  not  determine,  but  the  shock  and  fall  had 
produced  bad  results,  and  the  constant  moaning  led  her 
to  fear  internal  injuries.  Once  the  woman  looked  into 
Marion's  face  with  a  strange  look. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  murmured. 

"  One  come  to  help  you,"  answered  Marion. 

"  Help  me ?     Nobody  can  help  me"  was  the  reply. 

The  time  passed  slowly  to  Marion,  but  it  was  not  half 
an  hour  before  her  boy  returned  with  two  men  and  a 
two-seated  covered  carriage. 

The  men  came  with  Ray  to  the  little  plain,  took  the 
woman  carefully  in  their  arms,  carried  her  up  the  steep 
out  into  the  open,  where  stood  the  carriage,  laid  her  ten 
derly  on  the  back  seat,  supported  by  Marion's  arms,  and 
drove  from  the  ravine. 

"  It  must  be  that  woman  stopping  at  Congressman 
Noble's  house,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

The  woman  caught  the  name.  "  Noble  ?  Yes,  ha ! 
ha !  didn't  I  outwit  you  this  time,  madam  ?  " 

"  I've  heard  his  wife  had  a  crazy  woman  there,"  whis 
pered  one. 

"  Some  relative  who  has  passed  through  great  sor 
row,"  answered  the  other. 

Marion  had  heard  of  the  woman  at  Mr.  Noble's,  but 
had  no  suspicion  it  was  Mrs.  Lyons.  She  had  seen  some 
of  the  Noble  family  at  church  a  few  times,  for  Marion 
went  to  church  now.  What  should  she  do  ?  Marion  had 
no  desire  to  go  to  the  house ;  the  facts  concerning  her 
would  doubtless  be  discovered.  She  had  only  been  here 
a  few  months,  and  was  but  little  acquainted,  except  with 
some  of  the  humbler  people  of  the  town. 

She  had  met  Representative  Aldrich  and  part  of  his 
family,  but  with  no  others  of  the  well-to-do  class  had  she 


260  Love  and  Liberty. 

become  <?sociated ;  but  there  she  was  in  the  carriage, 
and  the  men  driving  towards  the  Noble  mansion.  She 
could  scarcely  escape  going,  and  she  put  up  a  prayer  that 
God  would  help  her  in  this  trying  hour. 

The  woman  moved  restlessly,  muttering  almost  in 
cessantly. 

"  Where  are  you,  Lawrence?  Kiss  me  again;  time  to 
go  to  school,  my  boy;  old  Dick  wiil  go  with  you.  How 
long  ou've  been  gone.  We're  going  to  sell  all  the  slaves 
and  go  Xorth ;  come,  Lawrence,  my  boy." 

When  the  carriage  reached  Noble's  home,  inquiries 
were  made,  and  the  surmises  of  the  men  proved  correct. 

They  carried  Mrs.  Lyons  into  the  elegant  house,  fur 
nished  with  every  luxury  and  convenience.  Mrs.  Noble 
and  Florence,  the  latter  greatly  worried  and  excited,  met 
them,  and  hurriedly  told  how  their  cousin  had  lucid  in 
tervals,  and  had  been  left  alone  that  day,  as  she  seemed 
very  well ;  that  while  they  were  out,  she  must  have  gone 
to  Purgatory  with  the  purpose  to  destroy  herself.  They 
had  often  driven  over  there  when  out  driving,  and  she 
knew  of  the  wild  glen. 

Marion  briefly  related  the  circumstances  of  finding 
her,  without  revealing  her  own  identity,  and  was  about 
to  leave,  when  they  heard  Mrs.  Lyons  calling,  "  Law 
rence,  come  here,  come  here,  I  say.  Kiss  your  mother 
again." 

Ray  explained  that  the  lady  seemed  to  take  him  for 
her  boy,  and  called  him  Lawrence. 

"  Come  in  and  see  her,"  said  Mrs.  Noble.  "  Perhaps 
your  face  and  presence  may  quiet  her." 

"  May  I,  mama?"  questioned  the  boy. 

Reluctantly  Marion  gave  consent,  for  she  trembled  lest 
the  people  should  discover  that  Ray  was  Mrs.  Lyons' 
grandchild. 

"  It  seems  very  strange,"  said  Marion  to  herself,  "  that 
this  should  occur.  Where  will  it  all  end,  and  what  will 
become  of  poor  me?  I  had  no  idea  that  Mrs.  Lyons  was 
here.  '  Father  in  heaven,  help  a  poor  erring,  penitent 
child  of  thine  in  this  time  of  neec1.,'  "  prayed  the  desolate 
woman. 


At  the  Academy.  261 


CHAPTER  L. 

AT    THE    ACADEMY. 

SAMUEL  FULLER  was  a  natural  student.  His  teaching 
in  the  district  school  was  not  of  great  value  in  many 
ways,  yet  he  there  laid  the  foundations  for  a  good  educa 
tion.  The  books  he  read  aided  him  greatly.  History 
and  biography  were  his  chief  pleasures.  After  he  had 
learned  all  the  district  school  could  teach,  he  followed 
his  own  desires  in  study,  until  the  year  he  was  eighteen, 
when  he  secured  an  educated  man  in  the  neighboring 
village  to  give  him  private  lessons  in  Latin,  mathematics 
and  the  sciences.  With  this  teacher  he  made  rapid  prog 
ress.  Instead  of  learning  his  trade,  as  at  first  planned, 
his  thirst  for  knowledge  encouraged  him  to  obtain  a 
better  education ;  so  for  something  over  a  year  he  had 
been  pursuing  studies,  reciting  evenings,  and  working  on 
the  farm  for  wages,  and  saving  his  money  for  the  Acad 
emy  course.  He  was  not  only  a  student,  but  also  deeply 
interested  in  current  events.  The  question  of  slavery  he 
had  carefully  studied.  With  parents  who  had  been  so 
deeply  interested  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  it  was  to  be 
expected  that  Samuel  would  become  an  Abolitionist. 
Nurtured  also  in  a  Quaker  home,  where  "  Liberty  to  the 
oppressed  "  was  a  watchword,  he  grew  more  and  more 
interested  in  the  holy  cause.  He  became  familiar  with 
the  great  debates  in  Congress  over  the  burning  question. 
Henry  Wilson  and  Charles  Sumner  stirred  his  fiery  soul 
by  their  speeches  and  action  in  behalf  of  the  slave.  He 
read  Mrs.  Stowe's  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  till  his  heart 
was  moved  with  both  sorrow  and  anq-er.  The  efforts 
of  the  free  state  men,  and  brave  John  Brown  in  Kansas, 
filled  him  with  great  admiration. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  he  one  day,  "  I  can  be  no  Friend 


262  Love  and  Liberty. 

when  such  dreadful  atrocities  are  practised  on  our  col 
ored  brothers.  I  would  rid  the  earth  of  this  foul  system, 
even  with  the  red  hand  of  blood.  Somebody  must  arise 
in  God's  name  to  purge  the  land  from  evil.  Isaiahs  and 
Jeremiahs  are  needed  to-day  as  much  as  ever.  Thank 
God  we  have  some  of  them.  Garrison,  Phillips  and 
Douglass  are  spurring  the  people  on  to  the  overthrow  of 
this  terrible  institution." 

As  we  have  seen,  Samuel  had  paid  a  few  visits  to  Sea- 
view,  and  at  that  time  when  James  so  strangely  discov 
ered  his  father,  matters  had  finally  been  arranged  for  a 
two  years'  course  at  the  Academy. 

In  September,  1859,  he  went  to  Seaview,  took  a  room 
at  his  father's  home,  and  the  first  school  year  would 
board  with  him.  He  entered  with  the  greatest  interest 
upon  his  school  duties.  On  account  of  his  proficiency, 
he  was  allowed  to  take  his  place  in  the  junior  class. 

Samuel,  as  Sadie  Greene  continued  to  say,  was  hand 
some  as  a  picture.  Sadie,  by  the  way,  was  now  Mrs. 
Ned  Jones,  living  in  an  elegant  house  on  the  hill.  Her 
mother  roomed  with  her,  this  being  one  of  the  conditions 
on  which  she  finally  accepted  Xed. 

The  most  prominent  features  in  Samuel  were  his  ex 
pressive  blue  eyes ;  aside  from  these,  he  greatly  resem 
bled  his  beautiful  mother.  No  description,  however, 
would  do  justice  to  him.  It  is  true  he  was  a  farmer  boy. 
His  hands  were  hard  and  his  muscles  firm,  but  the  deli 
cacy  of  his  complexion,  and  the  gleam  of  those  eyes, 
gave  him  a  look  very  different  from  most  farmers. 

"  His  mother  over  again,"  said  James,  "  all  but  his 
eyes." 

Lucy  was  proud  of  Samuel.  He  was  somewhat  quaint 
in  his  way,  and  used  the  Quaker  language  when  talking 
with  his  father. 

John  Gardiner  eyed  him  suspiciously,  and  Char'es 
Sumner  did  not  quite  understand  why  he  was  there. 

The  second  day  at  school,  Samuel  saw  a  face  in  the 
Latin  class  which  gave  him  a  strange  thrill.  It  was  the 
face  of  a  young  woman  whom  he  had  not  seen  before. 
She  was  of  medium  height,  and  had  the  loveliest  dimples, 
and  her  dark  hazel  eyes  shone  like  rare  gems. 


At  the  Academy.  263 

"  Miss  Alclrich  may  recite,"  said  the  professor. 

"Miss  Aldrich,  is  it?"  soliloquized  Samuel.  She 
showed  much  familiarity  with  the  lesson,  and  a  clear 
comprehension  of  the  study.  There  was  a  piquant, 
slightly  saucy  way  with  her,  which  greatly  attracted 
him.  Samuel  knew  no  one,  and  so  could  find  out  noth 
ing  concerning  her. 

That  evening,  his  father  came  to  his  room  in  great 
excitement. 

"  Samuel,"  he  cried,  "  thee  will  think  me  a  weak'  man, 
but  I  saw  a  young  woman  pass  our  house  to-night,  who 
so  strangely  resembles  thy  mother  that  I  fairly  started 
in  amazement.  I  felt  that  I  must  tell  thee.  There  were 
the  same  form,  complexion  and  attractive  way.  The 
hair,  of  course,  was  not  combed  plainly  like  thy  mother's, 
but  fell  in  glossy  ringlets  about  her  neck  and  shoulders. 
I  have  never  seen  any  one  whose  general  outline  so 
nearly  resembled  my  beloved  Ruth.  We  must  find  out 
who  she  is ;  she  appeared  to  be  one  of  the  new  students." 

Samuel  listened  to  his  excited  father,  and  told  him  he 
would  do  his  best  to  discover  who  the  young  woman  was. 
In  his  own  mind,  he  connected  her  with  the  young  lady 
in  the  Latin  class. 

The  next  morning,  at  the  algebra  class,  the  same 
young  woman  was  present. 

"  Miss  Aldrich  will  place  the  tenth  example  on  the 
board  and  explain,"  said  the  professor. 

"  Isn't  she  beautiful  ?  "  thought  Samuel. 

"  Mr.  Fuller,  you  may  solve  the  twelfth  problem," 
called  the  professor  again. 

Samuel  started  from  his  short  reverie.  The  problems 
were  quickly  solved  and  satisfactorily  explained. 

Samuel  nudged  the  young  man  next  to  him.  "  Ed 
wards,  do  you  know  Miss  Aldrich?" 

"Plow  should  I  know  her?"  growled  the  man;  "she 
only  got  here  yesterday." 

On  the  way  from  recitation,  Samuel  passed  near  the 
young  woman  in  question,  and  raised  his  hat,  which  was 
an  unusual  thing  for  a  Quaker  to  do. 

She  casually  glanced  at  Samuel,  but  as  the  blue  eyes 
gazed  into  her  own  eyes  with  such  wondrous  expression. 


264  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  color  mounted  to  her  face,  and  she  passed  rapidly  to 
the  boarding  hall. 

"  Father,"  said  Samuel  at  noon,  "  there  is  a  young 
woman  in  my  class  who  answers  thy  description,  named 
Aldrich.  She  is  very  beautiful,  and  would  attract  one 
by  her  perfect  manners  and  charming  ways.  I  have  a 
feeling  that  she  may  look  like  my  dear  mother." 

"  Find  out  all  you  can  about  her,"  said  James,  "  and 
bring  me  word  again." 

Rachel  Aldrich  had  entered  the  same  class  with  Sam 
uel,  and  had  nearly  the  same  studies.  Three  weeks  went 
by,  but  though  Samuel  saw  her  nearly  every  day,  he  had 
not  yet  secured  an  introduction.  His  opportunities  were 
few,  because  he  did  not  board  at  the  hall.  One  morniug 
at  chapel,  however,  it  was  announced  that  an  intcrviciv 
would  be  held  that  evening. 

"  An  interview  is  what  I'm  longing  for,"  said  Samuel 
to  himself.  "  What  kind  of  an  affair  is  thaw  I  wonder." 

He  found  out  that  evening.  Dressed  in  his  best  suit, 
with  a  little  primping  from  Lucy,  he  made  his  appear 
ance  in  the  chapel  at  the  stated  hour.  The  girls  were 
seated  at  first  on  one  side  of  the  room,  and  the  young 
men  on  the  other.  After  a  little  while  the  gentlemen 
passed  to  the  ladies'  side,  selected  partners,  and  away  they 
went,  arm  in  arm.  Samuel,  being  new  at  the  business, 
waited  till  the  first  squad  of  men  secured  partners,  and 
was  highly  indignant  when  Edwards  marched  straight  to 
Miss  Rachel,  and  she,  with  a  bewitching  smile,  accepted 
his  offered  arm,  and  away  they  went  round  the  chapel. 

"  Confound  the  bear ! "  growled  Samuel  under  his 
breath,  "  that  fellow  has  cheek  enough  for  a  dozen  men." 

Edwards  kept  her  on  the  floor  a  long  while,  too.  At 
last  it  appeared  that  Rachel  desired  to  be  seated,  and 
down  flopped  Edwards  by  her  side.  Samuel  was  grow 
ing  angry ;  he  wasn't  over-meek  at  best.  "  Greene," 
said  he  to  a  classmate,  "  do  you  know  Miss  Aldrich  ?  " 

"  Fairly  well,"  answered  Greene. 

"  Will  you  introduce  me?  I  have  a  particu'ar  reason 
for  meeting  her  to-night." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Greene.  "  Miss  Aldrich  is  said 
to  be  the  most  accomplished  young  lady  in  the  school. 


At  the  Academy.  „  265 

She  has  nearly  covered  our  course  in  a  private  school, 
but  comes  here  for  a  '  finish,'  as  the  girls  call  it." 

They  walked  toward  Rachel. 

"  I  meant  to  walk  with  her  myself  to-night,  but  that 
burly  Edwards  has  monopolized  her.  I'll  give  you  my 
chance  at  your  request,  however." 

"  Miss  Aldrich,  allow  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Fuller. 
Mr.  P\iller,  Miss  Aldrich." 

Rachel,  greatly  to  Edwards'  disgust,  took  Samuel's 
proffered  arm,  as  Greene  moved  away,  and  at  last  Sam 
uel  had  the  pleasure  of  talking  with  this  fine  young 
woman. 

"  Miss  Aldrich,  I  am  greatly  pleased  to  meet  you.  I 
have  much  desired  an  introduction  since  the  first  day  I 
met  you  in  class." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Fuller,  how  came  you  to  observe  me 
so  soon  ?  " 

"  Well — because — you  know,  I  saw  you  understood 
that  Latin  lesson." 

"  I  ought  to  understand  it ;  I've  studied  it  enough," 
replied  Rachel. 

"Where  did  you  attend  school  before  coming  here?" 
questioned  Samuel. 

"  I  have  not  been  studying  the  last  year,  but  previous 
to  that  was  three  years  at  a  select  school  for  young  ladies 
in  Worcester,"  responded  Rachel.  "  And  where  have 
you  studied,  Mr.  Fuller?" 

"  At  an  insignificant  country  school,"  was  the  answer. 

"Country  school?"  echoed  Rachel;  "then  where  did 
you  get  your  Latin  and  Greek  ?  " 

"  I've  had  a  private  tutor  about  a  year,"  was  the  an 
swer,  "  and  have  done  some  work  by  myself." 

"  You  must  have  been  diligent,"  returned  Rachel. 

"  Book  knowledge  comes  easy  to  me,  and  I  had  a  good 
tutor,"  said  Samuel.  "  Do  you  like  the  '  Anabasis/  Miss 
Aldrich?" 

"  Very  much,"  replied  Rachel,  "  I've  read  some  of  it 
before.  Isn't  it  bad  that  Cyrus  should  be  slain?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Samuel,  "  but  I  haven't  read 
all  the  story  yet,  you  know." 

"  You'll  like  it  more  and  more  as  you  read.     Cyrus 


266  x  Love  and  Liberty. 

concealed  his  real  purpose  from  all  but  one  of  his  Greek 
generals.  He  really  wished  to  secure  the  Persian  throne 
from  his  brother,  and  when  he  died,  the  interesting  part 
begins.  The  retreat  of  those  ten  thousand  Greeks  through 
an  enemy's  country  is  fascinating.  I  suppose  the  story 
derives  much  importance  from  the  fact  that  knowledge 
of  the  weakness  of  the  Persian  Empire,  which  had  been 
thought  so  strong,  resulted  from  this  famous  advance 
and  retreat.  Do  you  like  Cicero.  Mr.  Fuller?"  and 
Rachel  looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Samuel. 

"  Yes,  and  soon  we'll  be  reading  Virgil ;  I  like  it  all 
very  much,"  and  though  Samuel  didn't  dare  to  say  it,  he 
liked  Rachel  much  better  than  any  musty  Latin  and 
Greek  classics  of  which  he  had  ever  heard.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  when  she  turned  those  bright  eyes  upon  Ir'm, 
he  could  scarce  refrain  from  telling  her  how  beautiful 
she  was ;  yet  at  present,  he  knew  that  he  must  hold  his 
peace. 

"  Where  is  your  home,  Miss  Aldrich?  " 

"In  Glentown,  Mass.;  and  yours?" 

"  In  Groveland  of  this  state,  though  at  present  I  board 
with  my  father  on  Elm  Street." 

"  Board  with  your  father?  "  said  Rachel ;  "  that  sounds 
strangely." 

"  \Yell,  the  fact  is  that  my  mother  died  when  I  was  a 
babe,  and  I  have  always  lived  at  grandfather's.  After 
many  years,  father  married  a  Miss  Gardiner  of  this  town, 
and  now  resides  here." 

"  It  must  be  sad  not  to  know  a  mother's  care." 

"  Of  course  I  do  not  realize  my  loss  as  I  have  no  re 
membrance  of  mother,  and  I  have  always  been  nurtured 
well  on  the  Grover  homestead;  but  mother's  death  wa^ 
a  great  blow  to  father  and  nearly  wrecked  his  life." 

'  Mr.  Fuller,  have  you  read  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  '?  " 

"  Yes,  read  and  re-read  it  many  times." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  said  Rachel.  "And  are  you  in 
terested  in  the  freedom  of  the  slaves?  My  father  is  an 
Abolitionist." 

"  So  is  mine,"  answered  Samuel ;  "  he  was  for  many 
years  a  station-master  on  the  underground  railroad." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Rachel. 


At  the  Academy.  267' 

"  It  was  an  organized  system  of  stations  to  assist  slaves 
to  escape  from  their  masters." 

"  How  interesting,"  was  the  response.  "  Have  you 
heard  Wendell  Phillips  or  any  of  the  Abolitionist  leaders 
speak  on  this  question?"  inquired  Rachel. 

"  I  have  heard  Phillips  and  Fred  Douglass,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Charles  Sumner  is  father's  ideal,"  continued 
he.  "  I  have  a  little  brother  named  for  him." 

"  And  /  have  a  brother  named  Wendell  Phillips/"  said 
Rachel. 

At  length  they  were  seated,  and  when  the  hour  came 
for  them  to  leave,  in  spite  of  Edwards,  who  tried  to  get 
her  away  from  him,  Samuel  had  the  pleasure  of  escorting 
Rachel  to  the  boarding  hall. 


268  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LI 
HARPER'S  FERRY. 

"  FREEMEN  engaged  in  the  struggle  for  liberty,  at 
tention  !  " 

The  speaker  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  resolute  band  of 
men,  heavily  armed,  whose  faces  shone  with  grim  deter 
mination. 

"  All  ready,  Captain,"  they  cried. 

''  This  is  the  Lord's  day  on  which  many  glorious  deeds 
have  been  wrought  in  the  cause  of  freedom." 

"  We  honor  the  Lord  and  His  day,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Freemen,  the  hour  is  come.  I  intended  to  wait  an 
other  week,  but  am  impressed  that  this  is  the  hour  to 
strike.  All  you  good  men  and  true,  bear  yourselves 
courageously ;  the  cause  of  liberty  to-night  will  be  ad 
vanced  by  this  brave  band." 

"  Captain  Brown,"  said  Horace  Fuller,  "  do  you  ihink 
it  wise  to  make  the  attack  to-night?  Others  on  the  way 
will  soon  be  here  to  help  us  if  we  wait." 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  God  has  directed  me  to  strike 
to-night. 

"  Are  you  all  agreed  ?  "  continued  Brown. 

"  Ready  to  live  and  die,  in  order  to  free  the  slaves." 
came  the  reply  in  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"  Very  well,  you  understand  our  plans.  Soldiers,  let 
me  impress  one  thing  on  your  minds.  You  all  kncr.v  how 
dear  life  is  to  you,  and  how  dear  your  lives  are  to  your 
friends  ;  and  in  remembering  that,  consider  that  the  lives 
of  others  are  as  dear  to  them  as  yours  are  to  you.  Do 
not,  therefore,  take  the  life  of  any  one  if  you  can  possibly 
avoid  it;  but  if  it  is  necessary  to  take  life  to  save  your 
own,  then  make  sure  work  of  it." 

"  Aye.  aye.  Captain !  " 


Harper's  Ferry.  269 

The  force  consisted  of  seventeen  white  men,  and  five 
negroes.  Silently,  with  great  caution,  they  marched  into 
the  town. 

"  We  create  no  alarm  as  yet,"  whispered  Brown, 
"  thank  God  for  that.  Put  out  the  lights,  Fuller  and 
Watson." 

These  two  men  went  quietly  about  the  work,  assisted 
by  several  others. 

"  Cook  and  Copeland,  take  five  other  men  and  tear  up 
the  railroad  track.  Cut  the  telegraph  wires,  Stevens  and 
Hazlitt." 

Orders  were  given  quietly  and  every  man  was  at  work. 

"  To  the  armory  building ! "  commanded  Brown. 
"  Seize  the  watchman,  Fuller." 

"  All  right,  Captain,"  answered  Horace. 

He  found  three  watchmen  at  the  armory. 

"  I  shall  have  to  arrest  you,  gentlemen,  but  you  will 
not  be  harmed  unless  you  resist." 

Horace  locked  the  men  in  the  guardhouse.  At  half- 
past  ten,  Horace  also  took  the  watchman  at  the  Potomac 
bridge,  and  waited  for  his  successor.  At  length  his  steps 
were  heard.  Horace  hailed  him. 

"  Step  this  way,  sir !  " 

"  No  you  don't,"  cried  the  man.  "  Robbers  at  the  ar 
mory,"  cried  he,  and  ran  rapidly  away.  Horace  fired  a 
shot  after  him,  but  things  remained  quiet. 

"  A  train  is  coming  from  the  west,"  said  Brown.  "  We 
must  hold  it,  Fuller." 

"  As  you  say,"  was  the  answer. 

It  was  a  quarter-past  one  o'clock  when  the  train  rum 
bled  into  the  station.  The  conductor  and  some  others 
attempted  to  cross  the  bridge. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  Horace,  presenting  his  rifle.  The  men 
halted.  One  of  the  men  fired  a  gun  and  a  negro  porter 
was  shot,  who  died  the  next  morning. 

"  Railroad  passengers,  go  to  the  hotel,"  said  Horace. 
The  command  was  obeyed  and  the  passengers  remained 
there  for  several  hours. 

"  Captain  Fuller,  take  Stevens  and  four  other  men 
and  capture  Colonel  Washington  at  his  home,"  ordered 
Brown. 


270  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Forward,  men,"  called  Horace,  and  the  insurrection 
ists  moved  rapidly  towards  Washington's  house. 

"  We  shall  be  obliged  to  take  you  with  us,  Colonel," 
said  Horace. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  $ir?" 

"  Explanations  will  come  later,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Liberate  the  slaves,  Stevens." 

"  You  are  free,"  shouted  Stevens  to  the  negroes. 

'  Take  the  Colonel's  arms,  horses  and  carriages,"  or 
dered  Fuller. 

The  command  was  obeyed. 

"  Is  this  a  historic  sword,  Colonel?"  asked  Horace. 

"  That  sword,  sir,  formerly  belonged  to  Frederick  the 
Great,  and  later  to  General  Washington." 

"  We'll  carry  it  to  Captain  Brown,"  returned  Horace. 

After  Brown  received  that  sword,  he  commanded  his 
men  with  it  during  the  fight. 

Horace  and  his  band  then  went  to  the  house  of  Mr. 
Alstadtt  and  his  son,  captured  them  both,  and  freed  their 
slaves.  All  the  men  as  they  were  captured  were  con 
fined  in  the  armory  till  nearly  fifty  prisoners  were  in  the 
building.  One  said  to  Brown  : 

"  Will  you  not  liberate  us?  " 

"  I  will  liberate  each  and  all  of  you  on  condition  of 
writing  to  your  friends  to  send  a  negro  apiece  as 
ransom." 

"  Ransoms  be  hanged,"  cried  one. 

"What  is  your  object  in  this  insurrection,  Captain?" 

"  To  free  the  slaves,  Colonel  Washington,"  answered 
Brown. 

This  was  also  the  uniform  answer  to  all  such  questions. 

A  workman  seeing  an  armed  guard  at  the  gate,  asked 
by  what  authority  they  took  possession  of  the  public 
property. 

"  By  the  authority  of  God  Almighty,"  answered  Brown. 

The  train,  by  permission  of  the  band,  went  out  at  day 
light,  and  left  the  place  completely  in  military  possession 
of  the  insurrectionists.  They  held  all  the  offices,  work 
shops  and  grounds.  Brown's  men  were  on  guard  at  the 
bridges  and  principal  corners,  and  could  be  seen  walking 
about  the  streets.  All  the  men  who  seemed  inclined  to 


Harper's  Ferry.  271 

make  any  trouble  were  captured  and  imprisoned  in  the 
armory.  The  band  had  over  sixty  prisoners  by  eight 
o'clock  Monday  morning,  and  still  kept  securing  men. 

Horace  Fuller  with  Owen  Brown,  John's  son,  at 
tempted  to  arrest  two  men  in  the  morning,  and  were  fired 
on  by  a  man  named  Turner,  and  by  the  grocer  Boerly. 

"  We  must  shoot,"  said  Horace.  They  fired  and  in 
stantly  killed  Boerly. 

The  white  Virginians,  who  had  not  been  made  pris 
oners,  were  now  arming.  They  got  possession  of  a  room 
where  they  could  see  the  armory  gates  and  fired  at  the 
sentinels  guarding  them.  One  man  fell  dead. 

"  Captain  Brown,  your  son  Watson  is  mortally 
wounded,  I  fear,"  said  Horace. 

Brown  sprang  to  his  aid  as  they  supported  the  young 
man,  but  he  died  soon  after.  All  that  afternoon,  the  lib 
erators  remained  in  control  of  the  town.  Shots  were 
fired  on  either  side  but  no  more  deaths  were  reported. 

Brown  allowed  the  prisoners  in  town  to  visit  their 
families  with  a  guard,  to  show  that  they  were  alive  and 
well  treated. 

"  Captain,"  said  Horace,  "  would  we  not  better  depart 
with'  such  arms  and  ammunition  as  we  can  carry,  before 
more  lives  are  lost?  We  can  be  secure  in  our  mountain 
fastnesses." 

"  I  am  not  moved  to  go  yet,"  replied  Brown.  "  I  think 
the  negroes  in  the  surrounding  country  are  rising  and 
will  come  to  our  aid." 

"  What  will  we  gain  by  staying?  "  asked  Horace. 

"  We  have  plenty  of  arms  and  ammunition  here,  and 
can  free  more  slaves  than  by  leaving  the  town  at  this 
time,"  was  the  answer. 

"  But  our  original  plan  was  to  fly  to  the  mountains," 
persisted  Horace. 

"  True,"  replied  Brown,  "  but  I  am  impressed  that  we 
should  remain  longer." 

Why  Brown  determined  to  remain  after  the  capture  of 
the  arsenal  and  liberating  the  slaves,  remains  a  mystery. 
Delay  at  this  hour  hastened  the  final  result. 

The  militia  began  to  arrive  from  Charlestown  and 
other  places  and  were  placed  in  every  available  place  of 


272  Love  and  Liberty. 

exit.  They  took  the  Shenandoah  bridge,  killed  one  of 
Brown's  men,  and  captured  William  Thompson.  Then 
they  carried  the  rifle  works  which  only  had  five  men  to 
defend  them. 

"  Cross  the  river,"  cried  Kagi,  Brown's  secretary  of 
war.  Four  of  the  men  reached  a  rock  in  the  middle  of 
the  river,  where  two  hundred  Virginians  on  the  banks 
fired  volley  after  volley  at  them. 

"  Fight  for  your  lives,"  cried  William  Leeman,  a 
young  fellow  of  twenty-two  years,  one  of  Brown's  offi 
cers.  But  even  while  he  spoke,  two  of  the  men  were 
shot  dead,  Kagi  being  one  of  them,  and  another  fell  mor 
tally  wounded.  Leeman  jumped  into  the  river.  A  man 
waded  after  him.  Leeman  saw  him  but  had  no  weapon, 
threw  up  his  empty  hands  and  cried :  "  Don't  shoot !  " 
The  man,  however,  fired  his  pistol  directly  into  the 
youth's  face,  shattering  his  head  into  fragments.  By  this 
time,  the  Virginians  held  all  the  houses  round  the  Ar 
mory  buildings.  Captain  Turner,  who  had  fired  the  first 
shot  that  morning,  at  Florace  and  his  companions,  raised 
his  gun  to  fire  at  the  sentinel  guarding  the  arsenal  gate, 
but  the  sentinel  was  too  quick  for  him  and  shot  him  dead. 
Three  negroes,  two  of  them  slaves,  were  killed.  Oliver 
Brown,  another  of  Brown's  sons,  was  struck  by  a  ball, 
came  inside  the  gate  as  his  brother  Watson  had  done. 
lay  down  without  a  word,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  dead. 

Mayor  Beckham  of  the  town  was  killed. 

"  Captain,  would  it  not  be  well  to  send  a  flag  of  truce?  " 
asked  Aaron  D.  Stevens,  one  of  the  most  trusty  men  in 
the  band.  "  We  shall  all  be  killed  if  we  remain  here." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Brown,  "  we  will  try  it ;  you  may  go 
with  it." 

Stevens  called  a  parley,  advanced  with  a  white  flag, 
and  was  instantly  shot  by  six  balls.  Thompson,  who  had 
been  captured,  was  attacked  in  the  parlor  where  he  was 
confined. 

"  Don't  kill  him  here,"  cried  a  young  woman,  "  you'll 
spoil  the  carpet." 

"  All  right,  madam,  we'll  spare  your  carpet."  came  the 
answer.  "  Take  him  to  the  bridge,  men."  The  orders 
were  obeyed. 


Harper's  Ferry.  273 

"  Fire !  "  rang  out  the  word.  In  a  moment,  his  body 
was  filled  with  balls,  when  he  fell  forty  feet  from  the 
bridge  to  the  base  of  the  pier. 

Other  militia  now  arrived,  and  a  party  from  Martins- 
burg  attacked  the  arsenal  buildings  in  the  rear,  while  an 
overwhelming  force  in  front  drove  Brown  to  the  engine 
house.  Here  he  killed  two  of  the  attacking  party,  and 
wounded  six.  And  still  the  militia  poured  into  the  town. 
Troops  were  hurried  forward.  Governor  Wise,  after 
the  telegraph  and  railroad  were  repaired,  secured  com 
munication  with  the  Government  at  Washington.  Pris 
oners  were  liberated  as  fast  as  the  arsenal  buildings  were 
taken  from  Brown's  men. 

At  nightfall,  Brown  offered  to  release  the  rest,  on  con 
dition  that  his  men  should  be  allowed  to  cross  the  bridge 
in  safety. 

"  No  quarter  to  Abolitionists,"  came  back  the  an 
swer. 

Brown  had  only  three  unwounded  whites  left,  and 
some  half-dozen  negroes  from  the  neighborhood. 
Eight  of  his  band  were  dead,  another  lay  dying  beside 
the  survivors.  Two  were  captives  mortally  wounded, 
and  one  other  was  unhurt.  Around  that  brave  little  band 
were  fifteen  hundred  armed  men,  thirsting  for  their 
blood. 

Horace  Fuller  with  half  a  dozen  men,  had  been  sent  by 
Brown  to  liberate  more  slaves,  before  such  large  numbers 
of  militia  arrived.  Where  they  were,  Brown  knew  not. 
It  was  not  possible  for  them  to  rejoin  him  had  they  so 
desired.  All  night  long,  Brown  remained  awake  and  alert, 
though  the  firing  ceased  at  dark. 

"  Great  God,"  he  prayed,  "  I  am  in  Thy  hands ;  the 
cause  of  freedom  is  dearer  to  Thee  than  me ;  my  sons  are 
slain ;  gird  up  Thy  strength,  O  Thou  most  mighty,  and 
deliver  Thy  servants." 

And  so  the  old  Puritan,  beaten  and  beyond  all  earthly 
hope  of  rescue,  prayed  to  his  God  and  remained  cool  and 
calm.  He  conversed  with  Colonel  Washington,  whom 
he  had  captured  first  and  who  still  remained  his  prisoner, 
told  him  he  had  not  urged  his  sons  to  join  him  in  the 
venture,  but  believed  they  had  died  in  a  good  cause. 
18 


274  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  next  morning,  the  marines  went  to  the  engine- 
house. 

"  Surrender,  you  blood-thirsty  Abolitionist,"  cried  the 
captain. 

"  I  never  surrender,"  answered  F>ro\vn. 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  returned  the  man. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  Brown's  musket  flashed,  and  the 
man  fell  dead. 

"  Kill  the  rebel,"  yelled  a  marine. 

A  shot  struck  another  of  Brown's  men.  Yet  once, 
tii'icc  the  old  captain's  gun  belched  forth  its  deadly  mis 
siles,  and  each  time  a  man  fell  dead. 

"  Break  open  the  door ;  batter  it  down  with  this  lad 
der,"  shrieked  the  marines.  "  He's  a  terrible  fighter." 

In  a  moment  the  door  was  broken  down,  and  the 
soldiers  rushed  upon  him.  With  one  more  desperate, 
despairing  effort,  Brown  drew  his  sword  and  sent 
another  man  into  eternity. 

"  Kill  him,  kill  him  !  "  cried  the  marines. 

They  struck  him  in  the  face  with  a  saber,  and  knocked 
him  down,  then  time  after  time  repeated  the  blow.  A 
marine  ran  a  bayonet  twice  into  the  old  man's  body. 

The  assailants  were  unable  to  accurately  tell  insurgents 
from  prisoners,  or  Brown's  men  would  doubtless  all  have 
been  killed  on  the  spot. 

They  took  the  bleeding  old  warrior,  and  the  few  sur 
vivors,  plied  them  with  questions,  and  subjected  them  to 
insult  and  execrations.  The  men  bore  it  all  with  the 
same  courage  they  had  shown  in  battle,  against  such 
odds.  They  gave  frank  answers  to  all  questions  except 
where  replies  might  compromise  those  of  the  band  still 
at  liberty,  declared  they  had  struck  for  universal  freedom 
at  all  hazards,  and  were  not  sorry  that  they  had  done  so. 
Colonel  Washington  afterwards  said  that  Brown  was 
the  coolest  man  he  ever  saw  in  defying  death  and  danger. 
With  one  son  dead  at  his  side,  and  another  shot  through, 
he  felt  the  pulse  of  his  dying  son,  held  his  rifle  with  the 
other,  and  commanded  his  men  with  the  utmost  com 
posure,  encouraging  them  to  be  firm  and  sell  their  lives  as 
dearly  as  possible. 

The  bearing  of  Brown  was  praised  by  his  enemies  as 


Harper's  Ferry.  275 

remarkably  simple  and  noble.  October  19,  the  men  were 
carried  to  Charlestown  jail.  Brown  and  Stevens,  badly 
wounded,  were  taken  in  a  wagon.  Greene  and  Coppoc, 
unhurt,  walked  between  files  of  soldiers,  followed  by  hun 
dreds  crying-,  "  Lynch  them,"  but  shamed  to  silence  by 
Governor  Wise. 

Horace  Fuller  and  his  companions,  under  Brown's 
orders,  had  started  too  late  to  liberate  more  slaves.  The 
militia  swarmed  the  town.  Owen  Brown,  John's  son, 
was  with  him ;  also  Barclay  Coppoc,  Tidd,  Merriam,  and 
Anderson,  a  colored  man.  They  evaded  the  armed  men 
as  best  they  could,  but  found  it  impossible  either  to 
return  or  do  any  effective  work.  The  fact  was  that  they 
had  not  been  gone  long,  when  they  perceived  that  they 
must  leave  the  town  immediately  or  be  killed.  Between 
them  and  John  Brown,  there  were  hundreds  of  armed 
soldiers.  Hiding  behind  some  houses,  they  fired  a.  part 
ing  salute  into  the  ranks  of  the  militia,  then  .started  to 
run. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  a  voice. 

They  paid  no  attention  to  the  command.  A  volley  of 
bullets  followed  them,  one  striking  Tidd  in  the  arm,  but 
on  they  rushed  toward  the  mountains.  Just  as  they  felt 
that  the  greatest  danger  was  passed,  they  came  upon 
a  dozen  of  militia  who  espied  them.  Our  friends  were  too 
quick  for  them,  and  before  the  soldiers  could  fire  their 
rifles,  five  men  fell  to  the  ground,  and  their  guns  were 
discharged  but  produced  no  injury.  Then  came  a  des 
perate  struggle.  A  hand-to-hand  fight  ensued.  Horace 
was  attacked  by  the  captain,  a  man  of  great  strength,  but 
Horace  Fuller  was  no  weak  foe.  He  knew  it  was  a 
grapple  to  the  death.  In  an  instant,  the  man  reached  for 
his  sword,  but  Horace  struck  his  arm  a  savage  blow 
which  caused  the  man  to  give  a  yell  of  pain,  and  before 
he  could  recover,  Horace  had  him  underneath.  "  Sur 
render,"  cried  Horace.  "  I'll  surrender  to  no  Abolition 
ist,"  answered  the  man. 

Horace  scarcely  knew  what  to  do.  He  had  a  pistol 
in  his  belt,  but  the  captain  required  every  muscle  to  keep 
him  down.  Just  as  lie  was  almost  in  despair,  the  man 
clutched  his  throat  in  a  deadly  grip. 


276  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I  must  get  my  pistol,"  thought  Horace,  and  loosing 
one  hand,  he  reached  for  it,  but  it  had  slipped  from  his 
belt  in  the  struggle. 

"  O  for  strength,  holy  Father ;  in  the  cause  of  freedom, 
I  ask  it,"  prayed  Horace,  and  then  by  a  mighty  effort  he 
pushed  the  captain's  hand  from  his  throat,  unsheathed 
the  man's  sword  and  plunged  it  into  the  body  of  his  foe. 
Shaking  himself  from  the  foeman's  weakening  grasp, 
Horace  saw  that  two  other  men  had  been  silenced  by  his 
companions.  Three  men  were  running  for  dear  life,  and 
others  were  struggling  with  Owen  Brown  and  Anderson. 

The  little  band  soon  gained  the  victory  over  all  that 
remained,  and  snatching  the  pistols  of  the  enemy,  in  ad 
dition  to  their  own  weapons,  they  hurried  as  rapidly  as 
some  of  the  wounded  insurgents  could  travel,  into  the 
mountains  above  the  town. 


The  News  at  Glentown.  277 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE   NEWS  AT  GLENTOWN. 

"  MARGARET  !  Margaret !  "  cried  Willard  Aldrich  in 
great  excitement  as  he  entered  the  house.  "  There  is  an 
insurrection  of  slaves  at  Harper's  Ferry !  " 

"  How  did  you  get  the  news?  "  questioned  Mrs.  Aid- 
rich. 

'  In  the  paper.  Here  are  several  despatches  stating  the 
facts,"  and  Willard  read  first  from  heavy  headlines : 

"FEARFUL  AND  EXCITING  INTELLIGENCE! 
NEGRO  INSURRECTION  AT  HARPER'S  FERRY! 
EXTENSIVE  NEGRO  CONSPIRACY  IN  VIRGINIA 
AND  MARYLAND !  SEIZURE  OF  THE  UNITED 
STATES  ARSENAL  BY  THE  INSURRECTION 
ISTS  !  ARMS  TAKEN  AND  SENT  INTO  THE  IN 
TERIOR.  THE  BRIDGE  FORTIFIED  AND  DE 
FENDED  BY  CANNON!  TRAINS  FIRED  INTO 
AND  STOPPED!  SEVERAL  PERSONS  KILLED! 
TELEGRAPH  WIRES  CUT!  CONTRIBUTIONS 
LEVIED  ON  THE  CITIZENS!  TROOPS  DES 
PATCHED  AGAINST  THE  INSURGENTS  FROM 
WASHINGTON  AND  BALTIMORE! 

FIRST  DESPATCH. 

"  BALTIMORE,  Monday,  Oct.  17,  1859. 
"  A  dispatch  just  received  here  from  Frederick,  and 
dated  this  morning,  states  that  an  insurrection  has  broken 
out  at  Harper's  Ferry,  where  an  armed  hand  of  Aboli 
tionists  have  full  possession  of  the  Government  Arsenal. 
The  express  train  going  east  was  twice  fired  into  and 
one  of  the  railroad  hands  and  a  negro  killed  while  they 
were  endeavoring  to  get  the  train  through  the  town. 


278  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  insurrectionists  number  two  hundred  and  fifty 
whites,  aided  by  a  gang  of  negroes.  They  stopped  and 
arrested  two  men  who  had  come  to  town  with  a  load 
of  wheat,  seized  their  wagon  and  loaded  it  with  rifles, 
and  sent  them  into  Maryland.  This  dispatch  is  sent  as 
received  here  but  should  be  received  with  much  caution 
until  affirmed  by  further  advices." 

'    SECOND    DESPATCH. 

"  BALTIMORE,  10  o'clock. 

"It  is  apprehended  that  the  affair  at  Harper's  Ferry 
is  more  serious  than  our  citizens  seem  willing  to  believe. 
The  wires  from  Harper's  Ferry  are  cut.  It  is  rumored 
that  there  is  a  stampede  of  negroes  from  the  state." 

THIRD  DESPATCH. 

"  BALTIMORE,  Monday,  Oct.  17,  3  P.  M. 
"  Another  account  by  train  says  the  bridge  across  the 
Potomac  was  filled  with  insurgents  ail  armed.  Every 
light  in  the  town  was  extinguished  and  the  hotel  closed. 
All  the  streets  were  in  possession  of  the  mob  and 
every  road  and  lane  leading  thereto,  barricaded  and 
guarded.  Men  were  seen  in  every  quarter  with  muskets 
and  bayonets,  who  arrested  the  citizens,  and  impressed 
them  into  the  service,  including  many  negroes.  The  cit 
izens  were  in  a  terrible  state  of  alarm,  and  the  insurgents 
have  threatened  to  burn  the  town." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  it  can  be  true,"  said  Wil- 
lard,  "  and  yet  the  despatches,  one  after  another,  would 
appear  to  confirm  it  as  truth." 

"  Willard,"  exclaimed  Margaret,  "  do  you  suppose  it 
is  Captain  Brown  arming  the  negroes?  The  one  that 
fought  in  Kansas,  I  mean,  and  carried  slaves  off  to 
Canada." 

"  I  don't  know  ;  it  is  a  very  strange  affair,  but  it  may 
be  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  slavery,"  said  Willard. 

"  I  hope  and  pray  that  such  is  the  case,"  replied 
Margaret. 


The  News  at  Glentown.  279 

"  Here  is  a  little  description  of  Harper's  Ferry,"  con 
tinued  Willard. 

"  Harper's  Ferry  is  a  town  of  five  thousand  inhabi 
tants,  lying  on  the  Virginia  side  of  the  Potomac  river, 
and  on  either  side  of  its  principal  tributary,  the  Shenan- 
doah,  which  enters  it  from  the  south.  Its  site  is  like  a 
nest  among  steep,  high  mountains,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
place  well  known.  It  is  situated  fifty-seven  miles  from 
Washington.  In  the  arsenal  are  stored  many  thousand 
stands  of  arms." 

The  excitement  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Aldrich  over  John 
Brown's  attempt  to  capture  the  arsenal  was  a  fair  sample 
of  the  excitement  throughout  the  country.  The  nation 
was  startled.  The  slave  states  were  convulsed  with  ter 
ror,  and  the  free  states  divided  in  opinion  concerning  the 
whole  affair.  No  one  knew  the  extent  of  the  conspiracy, 
nor  to  what  it  would  lead ;  and  when,  as  Margaret  had 
surmised,  it  became  known  that  old  John  Brown  was  the 
leader  of  the  suicidal  attempt,  the  uncertainty  and  dismay 
increased. 

In  due  time  the  truth  concerning  the  affair  was  pub 
lished,  stating  that  Brown  and  his  associates  who  sur 
vived  were  in  the  jail  at  Charlestown,  and  would  be 
tried  for  their  lives. 

The  Southerners  were  in  fearful  alarm,  and  suspected 
that  other  attacks  would  be  made. 

"  It  is  a  crisis  in  the  struggle  for  freedom,"  said  Con 
gressman  Noble  one  day  to  his  friend,  Aldrich. 

"  You  are  right,"  came  the  answer.  "  The  acute  stage 
of  the  slavery  question  is  reached.  Some  great  calamity 
is  hanging  over  the  nation." 

''  The  Southerners  have  threatened  to  dissolve  the 
Union,  and  establish  a  government  for  the  propagation  of 
slavery.  They  have  already  tried  to  capture  Cuba,  and 
make  it  into  slave  states,"  answered  Noble. 

'  Yes,"  returned  Aldrich,  "  we  have  samples  enough 
of  the  malignant  power  within  our  borders.  John  Brown 
has  ventured  a  stroke  which  has  aroused  the  whole 
country,  and  the  contending  forces  of  slavery  and  free 
dom  are  on  the  field  of  contest,  face  to  face." 


280  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  He  is  a  grand  old  Puritan,  who  believes  in  the  tri 
umph  of  the  right,"  said  Noble. 

11  They'll  hang  him  of  course,"  said  Aldrich. 

"  It's  a  foregone  conclusion,"  replied  Noble.  "  Those 
Southerners  are  deadly  afraid  of  him.  Horace  Greeley 
says:  '  Virginia  has  only  one  alternative,  to  hang  John 
Brown  or  abolish  slavery,'  and  he  has  it  right." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  he  said  to  a  slaveholding  clergy 
man  who  visited  him  in  jail?"  asked  Willard. 

"  Yes,"  came  the  answer ;  "  this  is  the  way  it  was  told 
to  me :  '  My  dear  sir,  you  know  nothing  about  Christian 
ity  ;  I  respect  you  as  a  gentleman,  but  as  a  heathen  gen 
tleman.'  ' 

"  Och,  be  jabers,  if  they  hang  old  John  Brown,  they'll 
rue  the  sad  day,  be  gorrv,"  shouted  our  friend  Pat ;  and 
Tim,  a  sturdy  young  man,  echoed :  "  Right  ye  are,  old 
dad  ;  young  Pete  Nichols  says  he  clesarves  it  more  nor  his 
pap  for  killing  Black  Joe.  Saints  presarve  us,  but  Pete 
is  a  tough  lad,  shure  as  ye  live,"  and  young  Tim  threw 
back  his  broad  shoulders  and  raised  himself  to  his  six 
feet  in  height,  with  an  air  of  great  consequence.  In  spite 
of  his  mother's  predictions  that  he'd  be  a  priest,  he  was 
really  a  stalwart  teamster. 


Boarding-School  Life.  281 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

BOARDING-SCHOOL     LIFE. 

RACHEL  ALDRICH  greatly  enjoyed  the  Academy  school 
life  and  made  many  friends.  Her  room-mate  and 
chum  was  Edith  Snow,  from  New  York.  Edith  was  not 
particularly  handsome,  though  she  looked  well  enough, 
but  was  a  girl  of  fine  character.  As  Rachel  became 
known  and  came  to  know  Uie  students,  she  proved  to  be 
a  general  favorite  in  the  institution  with  both  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen.  There  were  some  petty  jealousies 
shown,  however,  first,  because  she  was  so  brilliant  in 
her  studies,  and  second  because  she  was  so  popular  with 
both  faculty  and  students.  This  was  a  new  feature  to 
Rachel.  At  Glentown  the  people  almost  idolized  her, 
and  from  being  a  day-student  in  Worcester,  she  had  es 
caped  most  of  the  school  jealousies  of  the  boarders.  But 
at  Seaview,  Beth  Reynolds,  about  her  own  age,  and  in 
most  of  her  classes,  said  she  needn't  hold  her  head  so 
high  because  she  got  her  lessons  so  well  and  outranked 
all  the  other  young  ladies  in  the  institution.  She  under 
stood  her  father  was  nothing  but  a  carpenter,  and  where 
she  got  all  her  fine  dresses,  she  couldn't  see.  Beth,  by 
the  way,  was  the  daughter  of  a  rich  banker,  and  dread 
fully  stupid. 

Then  Cora  Wells,  also  a  junior  and  a  bright  girl,  one 
year  younger  than  Rachel,  spoke  up  in  high  dudgeon  be 
cause  at  the  end  of  the  first  month  our  heroine  was  sev 
eral  marks  ahead  of  her,  and  also  and  particularly  because 
Cora  had  previously  been  the  belle  of  the  school  till  Ra 
chel  put  in  an  appearance. 

"  She  needn't  think  she  is  so  dreadfully  smart  and  hand 
some,  if  the  young  gentlemen  are  wild  over  her,"  snapped 
Miss  Cora  with  great  petulance.  "  Glentown,  I'm  told, 
js  nothing  but  a  one-horse  town,  and  my  father  is  the 


282  Love  and  Liberty. 

largest  manufacturer  in  P.ridgeport.  How  any  one  can 
call  her  beautiful  passes  my  comprehension.  She  surely 
is  lacking  in  style  and  dignity,  and  is  actually  under  me 
dium  size,  with  her  curls  flying  like  the  wind." 

Among  the  young  men,  Aliss  Aldrich  was  also  the 
occasion  of  some  disturbance.  Edwards,  from  that  night 
when  Samuel  escorted  Rachel  to  the  hoarding-hall,  had 
hated  young  Fuller  most  bitterly. 

If  I  must  tell  you  the  truth,  Edwards  was  not  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world,  and  couldn't  bear  to  have  any  one 
else  more  favored  than  he.  Young  Greene  had  proved 
a  first-class  fellow,  and  Samuel  had  taken  to  him  wi*h 
right  good  will. 

"  Greene,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?  "  asked  Samuel. 

"  Certainly." 

"  Watch  Edwards,  and  see  how  he  conducts  himself 
towards  Miss  Aldrich.  I'm  interested  to  know  about 
him." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Greene,  "I  judge  several  of  us 
are  interested  in  that  quarter." 

"  I'll  depend  on  you?"  asked  Samuel. 

"About  Edwards?     Yes." 

As  the  "  Anabasis  "  class  was  dismissed  one  day,  Sam 
uel  slipped  a  note  into  Rachel's  hand.  She  blushed  as  she 
took  it  and  trembled  a  little,  not  knowing  exactly  why. 
When  she  reached  her  room  she  read  the  note. 

"  Miss  ALDRICH  :  May  I  see  you  in  second  parlor  to 
morrow  evening?  I  have  special  reasons  for  seeing  you, 
and  will  explain  them.  If  you  consent,  kindly  let  me 
know  in  class  to-morrow. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"  SAMUEL  FULLER.'' 


Rachel  took  the  note,  and  after  a  brief  reply,  locked 
it  in  her  writing  desk.     Her  reply  was : 

"  MR.  FULLER:  I  hardly  know  if  I  should  see  you,  as 
you  request,  but  will  consent  for  a  brief  time. 

"  RACHEL  ALDKICH." 


Boarding-School  Life.  283 

She  handed  it  to  Samuel  the  next  morning.  Samuel 
received  it  vvitli  rapture,  sought  the  preceptress,  pre 
ferred  his  request,  and  received  permission  to  visit  Miss 
Aldrich  that  evening. 

He  ate  no  supper. 

"  Samuel,  why  don't  you  eat?  "  asked  Lucy. 

"  I'm  not  hungry  to-night." 

"  What  has  taken  your  appetite?  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  thee,  mother  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  should  tell  me." 

"  I'm  to  call  on  Miss  Aldrich  this  evening." 

"  Call  on  Miss  Aldrich !  Is  that  the  beautiful  young 
lady  I've  heard  you  speak  of,  at  the  Academy?  " 

"  The  very  same." 

"  You  should  eat  a  good  supper,  notwithstanding." 

"  Can't  do  it,  mother  dear." 

"  Young  people  should  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  lose  their 
appetites  over  silly  things." 

"  Perhaps  not." 

"  John  Gardiner,"  went  on  Lucy,  "  what  ails  you  ? 
Why  don't  you  sit  up  to  the  table  and  behave  yourself?  " 

"  Am  b'havin'  myself,"  snarled  John. 

Just  then  Charles  Sumner  began  to  cry  heartily. 

"  Why,  Charlie  dear,  what's  the  matter?  "  asked  Lucy. 

"  Donny  pinched  me,"  boo-hooed  young  Charles. 

"  Why,  John  Gardiner,  you'll  have  to  be  punished. 
Mr.  Fuller,  you'll  have  to  take  John  in  hand." 

"  Didn't  nuther,"  spoke  up  John ;  "  just  teched  'im 
with  my  toe,  so  there,"  and  the  youthful  John  put  on  an 
innocent  look. 

"  John  Gardiner,  don't  let  me  hear  any  more  from 
you,"  said  James.  "  You're  large  enough  to  be  a  good 
boy,  and  father  wants  you  to  do  right  all  the  time." 

Samuel  was  shown  to  the  second  parlor. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Fuller." 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Aldrich.  I  thank  you  very  much 
for  granting  me  this  interview." 

"  I  am  pleased  to  see  you,"  said  Rachel,  and  she  was 
very  glad,  though  not  knowing  why  this  should  be  the 
case. 


284  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  You  recollect  at  the  time  we  were  introduced,  I  spoke 
of  my  family,  and  said  that  my  own  mother  was  dead?  " 

"  I  remember,"  said  Rachel,  and  she  had  often  thought 
of  the  motherless  young  man. 

"  My  father  has  seen  you  several  times  on  the  street 
with  Miss  Snow,  and  fancies  that  you  resemble  my 
mother.  It  is  his  wish  and  mine,  if  you  would  consent, 
that  you  visit  us  some  afternoon  or  evening,  whenever 
it  will  meet  your  convenience.  My  stepmother  kindly 
sends  this  invitation,"  and  Samuel  presented  the  enve 
lope  to  Rachel,  who  read  : 

"  To  Miss  ALDRICII— 

"  Mrs.  Fuller  cordially  invites  Miss  Aldrich  to  spend 
an  afternoon  or  evening  at  our  home  on  Elm  Street  at 
her  earliest  convenience.  We  already  feel  acquainted 
with  her  through  our  son,  and  trust  that  she  will  grant 
us  this  pleasure. 

"  With  kind  regards, 

"  MRS.  JAMES  FULLER." 

"Will  you  come?"  asked  Samuel. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  say." 

"  Say  yes." 

"  I  must  think  about  it ;  your  people  are  strangers  to 
me." 

"  But  they  will  not  be  long." 

"  Really,  I  must  have  time  to  consider  the  matter." 

"  And  will  you  consider  it  favorably  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so." 

With  that  for  the  moment,  he  had  to  be  content. 

"  Miss  Aldrich,  have  you  heard  the  news  which  came 
yesterday?  " 

"  About  the  attempt  to  capture  Harper's  Ferry  ?  " 

;<  The  very  same." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,  I  think,  that  old  John  Brown  seeks  to  free 
the  slaves." 

"  I  believe  in  that."  said  Rachel ;  "  but  will  such  a 
method  be  successful  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  father  told  me  to-day  that  my  cousin 


Boarding-School  Life.  285 

from  New  York  was  here  early  last  summer,  and  told 
him  about  the  scheme,  and  was  to  be  one  of  the  band  to 
carry  it  into  execution.  Father  discouraged  him,  because 
he  feared  they  would  not  succeed,  and  also  because 
father  is  a  peace  man.  The  country  appears  greatly  ex 
cited  over  the  matter,  and  we  can't  tell  yet  what  the  out 
come  will  be.  I  am  supposed  to  be  a  Quaker,"  said  Sam 
uel,  '"  but  believe  that  this  matter  will  have  to  be  settled 
in  blood." 

"  So  I  sometimes  think,"  came  the  answer.  "  Oh, 
Mr.  Fuller,  my  .heart  is  so  sad  when  I  read  about  the  suf 
ferings  of  the  slaves !  Can  it  be  that  this  shall  continue 
and  a  just  God  in  heaven?  " 

"  It's  not  God  that's  to  blame,  but  men,"  was  the  re 
ply  ;  "  men  who  trample  under  foot  the  very  principles 
on  which  the  government  is  founded.  Men  who  desire 
to  secure  their  own  ease  and  prosperity  by  the  slavery 
of  the  colored  race.  Talk  about  this  being  the  land  of 
the  free ;  it's  false,  Miss  Aldrich.  James  Russell  Lowell 
puts  it  right,  this  is  not  the  land  of  freedom,"  and  Samuel, 
his  blue  eyes  filled  with  a  strange  light,  looked  into  Ra 
chel's  face  as  he  repeated  some  stanzas  from  Lowell's 
poem  on  the  "  Capture  of  Fugitive  Slaves  Near  Wash 
ington." 

"  He's  true  to  God  who's  true  to  man,  wherever  wrong  is  done;   ^ 
To  the  humblest  and  the  weakest,  'neath  the  all-beholding  sun. 
That  wrong  is  also  done  to  us,  and  they  are  slaves  most  base 
Whose  love  of  right  is  for  themselves  and  not  for  all  their  race. 

"  God  works  for  all,  ye  cannot  hem  the  hope  of  being  free 
With  parallels  of  latitude,  with  mountain  range  and  sea ; 
Put  golden  padlocks  on  Truth's  lips,  be  callous  as  ye  will, 
From  soul  to  soul  o'er  all  the  world,  leaps  one  electric  thrill. 

"Chain  down  your  slaves  with  ignorance,  ye  cannot  keep  apart, 
With  all  your  craft  of  tyranny,  the  human  heart  from  heart. 
When  first  the  Pilgrims  landed  on  the  Pay  state's  iron  shore,' 
The  word  went  forth  that  slavery  should  one  day  be  no  more. 

"'Tis  ours  to  save  our  brethren,  with  peace  and  love  to  win 
Their  darkened  hearts  from  error  ere  they  harden  into  sin  ; 
But  if  before  his  duty  man  with  listless  spirit  stands, 
Ere  long  the  Great  Avenger  cakes  the  work  from  out  his  hands." 

Samuel's  musical  voice  fell  in  stirring  cadences  upon 


286  Love  and  Liberty. 

Rachel's  ears  and  drew  her  spirit  towards  him.  Her  soul 
was  all  on  fire  in  the  cause  of  freedom ;  she  thought  of 
it  by  day  and  dreamed  of  it  by  night.  She  looked  at 
Samuel  sitting  close  by,  with  his  face  all  aglow  in  the 
interest  of  the  cause  which  she  had  loved  from  childhood, 
and  somehow  there  came  to  her  a  nearness  which  she 
could  not  understand,  and  her  dark  eyes  looked  into  Sam 
uel's  blue  ones,  her  face  radiant  with  gladness.  She 
partly  lost  herself  in  contemp'ation,  and  was  awakened 
from  her  reverie  by  Samuel  observing: 

"  You  are  very,  very  beautiful,  Miss  Aldrich." 

Rachel  blushed,  and"  yci:  she  smiled. 

"  Your  dimples  arc  most  becoming ;  excuse  me  for 
saying  so,"  continued  Samuel. 

"Do  you  think  so?  And  what  shall  I  say  of  your 
eyes  ?  " 

"  My  eyes  ?  "  said  Samuel  in  astonishment,  "  what's 
the  matter  with  them?" 

Rachel  laughed  merrily,  recovering  herself.  ''  They 
are  a  beautiful  blue,  aren't  they?"  asked  she. 

"  I  believe  they  are  blue  like  father's,"  he  replied.  "  I 
never  thought  much  about  it." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Fuller,  think  no  more  about  it." 

There  they  sat  and  talked  of  things  that  were  so  dear 
to  both,  and  sometimes  Samuel  turned  the  conversation 
which  came  more  closely  home  to  his  beautiful  compan 
ion,  and  Rachel,  in  spite  of  all  her  sturdy  womanhood, 
sat  entranced  with  the  handsome,  liberty-loving  young 
man.  And  when  Samuel's  hour  was  up,  and  rather  more, 
she  wrote  a  note  to  Lucy,  accepting  her  kind  invitation, 
providing  Edith  Snow,  her  room-mate,  might  accompany 
her.  To  this,  Samuel  demurred  at  first,  but  had  to  con 
sent,  if  she  sent  any  answer. 

Then  he  went  away,  and  was  tempted  to  ask  for  just 
one 'kiss  on  that  lovely  cheek,  but  didn't  dare,  and  when 
he  had  gone  with  Rachel's  soft  good  night  ringing  in 
his  ear,  lie  was  so  sorry  that  he  hadn't  asked  her.  or 
kissed  her  without  asking,  that  he  scolded  himself  right 
well. 

And  Rachel  went  to  her  room,   where  Edith   Snow 


Boarding-School  Life.  287 

handed  her  a  letter  which  she  had  brought  from  the  post- 
office. 

Rachel  opened  it  and  read : 


"  GLENTOWN,  MASS.,  Oct.   18,   1859. 
"  MY  DEAR  RACHEL  : — 

"  I  have  waited  almost  two  months  since  you  went 
away,  and  now  write  you  the  letter  you  said  I  might. 
I've  been  awfully  lonesome  without  you,  and  wish  you 
were  home  again.  Rachel,  dear,  I  love  you  more  than 
ever,  and  I  really  hope  you'll  think  better  of  what  you 
said,  and  give  your  old  playmate  a  chance.  Father  has 
already  begun  on  that  house,  and  says  if  you'll  consent 
to  occupy  it,  he'll  hurry  matters  right  along.  I'm  not  so 
rich  and  stylish  as  some  folks,  but  no  young  man  will 
ever  love  you  like  me.  You  see,  we've  always  been  to 
gether,  and  nothing  can  change  me.  No  other  girl  is 
anything  to  me.  Rachel  is  the  only  one  I  want.  Ma  is 
getting  along  in  years,  and  won't  go  out  to  work  much 
more;  she  thinks  everything  of  you,  and  wants,  me  to 
win  you  for  my  wife.  Grace  Brown  is  not  to  be  men 
tioned  at  all  for  me.  Rachel  is  the  one  I  love. 

"  Clif  Noble's  folks  have  had  a  great  sensation.  His 
mother  brought  home  from  New  York  an  old  aunt  or 
cousin  that's  crazy.  One  day  she  got  away  from  them 
out  to  Purgatory,  and  jumped  off  one  of  those  rocks 
and  got  caught  by  a  tree  and  broke  her  fall,  on  to  a  place 
where  Mrs.  Fuller  and  her  boy  Ray  were  eating  their 
dinner.  They  got  help  and  took  her  home,  but  she  kept 
calling  Ray  Fuller  '  Lawrence,'  and  thought  he  was  her 
boy  that  was  murdered  up  in  Westport,  though  that  son 
was  a  grown  man,  and  it  made  her  crazy  when  he  died. 

"  Mrs.  Fuller  hasn't  been  here  long;  she  works  part  of 
the  time  in  one  of  the  cloth  rooms  at  Noble's  mill,  and 
Ray  went  to  school.  Since  that  day,  they  can't  do  any 
thing  with  Mrs.  Lyons,  only  when  Ray's  there,  and  she 
calls  him  Lawrence,  then  she's  quiet  like.  The  doctor 
says  the  boy  must  stay  there  till  she  gets  better ;  she  was 
hurt  pretty  bad  inside.  Some  think  the  old  woman  will 
adopt  him. 


288  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I  forgot  to  say  Mrs.  Fuller  is  a  very  handsome  widow, 
and  her  boy  Ray  must  be  ten  years  old. 

"  Now,  Rachel,  write  me  a  good  letter,  and  be  kind  to 
your  true  friend  and  lover, 

"  CHESTER  NYE." 

Rachel  laughed  and  laughed  again. 

"  What  will  I  do  with  Chester?  "  thought  she.  "  He'll 
have  to  understand  that  he  must  give  me  up.  It's  too  bad 
to  make  him  feel  unhappy,  but  then  he'll  get  over  it  all 
right,  and  if  Grace  Brown  will  have  him,  he'll  be  a  lucky 
young  man.  Grace  may  not  take  to  him,  though,  but 
lie's  as  good  as  he  can  be ;  poor  Chester." 

"  That's  strange,"  continued  Rachel  to  herself,  "  about 
this  Mrs.  Fuller  and  her  bay  Ray.  I  wonder  if  they  are 
any  relation  to  Samuel,"  and  then  Miss  Aldrich  felt  her 
cheeks  ar.  i  ears  burn,  and  wondered  if  Samuel  was  think 
ing  or  talking  about  her. 

Rachel  and  Edith  obtained  permission  of  the  precep 
tress  to  spend  the  following  Saturday  evening  with  Mrs. 
James  Fuller.  The  good  woman  was  a  little  surprised, 
and  also  a  little  suspicious  concerning  the  request,  but 
these  two  young  ladies  were  very  exemplary  students  in 
every  way,  and  when  told  that  the  Fullers  were  friends, 
she  allowed  them  to  go. 

"  I'm  suspicious  it's  a  scheme  of  that  young  Fuller  to 
see  Miss  Aldrich,"  said  she  to  herself  as  they  went  out ; 
"  but  after  all,  he  appears  to  be  a  fine  young  man,  and  I 
trust  no  harm  will  be  done." 

The  girls  reached  James'  home  in  time  for  tea. 
Everything  was  in  readiness  to  receive  them.  Proud 
Lucy's  house  was  in  apple-pie  order,  James  dressed  up  in 
his  best,  John  G.  looked  as  neat  as  a  pin,  and  Charles 
S.  had  on  his  best  bib  and  tucker;  Mrs.  Sadie  Jones, 
nee  Greene,  had  come  over  for  the  evening  to  help  Lucy, 
and  Ned  was  to  call  for  her  in  time  to  take  her  home. 
The  Fullers  saw  the  young  ladies  coming,  heard  the  gen 
tle  rap,  and  opened  the  door. 

"  Walk   in,   Miss   Aldrich  and    Miss   Snow ;  you  are, 


Boarding-School   Life.  289 

heartily  welcome,"  said  Mistress  Lucy,  who  was  greatly 
pleased  that  her  invitation  had  been  accepted. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Rachel.  Then  Samuel  introduced 
them  all  to  the  young  ladies. 

When  James  was  presented,  he  said :  "  Miss  Aldrich, 
I  am  deeply  grateful  to  you  for  this  kindness.  I  have 
seen  you  several  times  on  the  street ;  I  suppose  my  son 
has  told  you  how  greatly  you  resemble  his  mother." 

"  He  told  me  that  you  thought  so,"  answered  fair 
Rachel. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  James,  "  he  cannot  remember 
his  mother.  There  was  the  same  general  cast  of  fea 
tures,  the  size,  the  height,  the  complexion,  all  but  your 
beautiful  hair.  My  Ruth  was  a  Friend  and  wore  her 
hair  plain,  but  the  color,  I  should  say,  was  exactly  the 
same." 

"  It  gives  us  pleasure  to  come,"  replied  Rachel. 

Samuel  was  a  happy  young  man  that  night.  His 
father  was  very  quiet  and  gazed  almost  constantly  at 
Rachel,  but  she  took  it  in  good  part,  and  saw  the  tears 
standing  in  those  beautiful  blue  eyes,  which  were  just 
like  Samuel's.  She  smiled  so  sweetly  when  she  met  the 
gaze  of  James,  that  he  would  fain  have  clasped  her  in 
his  arms,  crying,  "  My  daughter,"  but  restrained  himself. 

At  tea,  there  was  a  merry  time,  and  Lucy's  cooking 
came  in  for  much  praise,  greatly  to  her  delight. 

"Miss  Aldrich,  may  I  ask  concerning  your  family?" 
inquired  Lucy. 

"  My  parents  are  living,  and  I  have  two  brothers," 
was  the  answer. 

"  Is  Glentown  a  fine  place?"  asked  Samuel. 

"  A  place  of  some  five  thousand  people,"  answered 
Rachel,  "  and  we  think  a  fine  town." 

"  Miss  Snow,  I  must  ask  after  your  people,"  spoke  up 
Mrs.  Jones. 

"  My  people  live  in  New  York,  and  I  have  two  sisters," 
said  Edith. 

"  That  is  delightful,"  returned  Sadie.  "  Mr.  Jones  has 
a  brother  in  New  York ;  perhaps  we  will  meet  there 
some  time." 

"  I  hope  we  may,"  Edith  replied. 

19 


2Qo  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Mr.  Fuller,"  said  Rachel  to  James,  "  could  you  tell 
us  about  your  experiences  with  that  underground  rail 
road  of  which  I  have  heard  your  son  speak?  " 

"  Too  solemn  talk  for  the  tea-table,"  spoke  up  Samuel. 

But  it  was  decided  that  in  the  evening'  when  tea  was 
finished,  James  should  give  some  of  his  adventures  as 
Rachel  was  so  deeply  interested  in  the  matter,  which  he 
did,  greatly  to  her  satisfaction. 

Then  Samuel  called  for  music,  and  after  a  little  per 
suasion,  Rachel  went  to  the  organ,  for  James  had  no 
piano,  and  they  joined  in  songs  and  hymns,  new  and  old, 
closing  with  grand  "  America." 

Rachel  was  much  pleased  to  hear  James  sing,  and 
asked  him  to  give  them  some  of  his  old-time  songs  which 
Samuel  declared  he  knew ;  and  thus  persuaded,  James 
sang.  "  Roll  on  Silver  Moon."  And  as  he  finished, 
Rachel  saw  tears  in  those  blue  eyes  as  he  gazed  at  her. 

At  that  moment  came  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  Ned  Jones 
was  announced,  and  heartily  greeted  by  all.  Xed  was  a 
strapping  fellow,  and  when  he  stood  by  the  side  of  Sadie, 
they  made  a  fine-looking  couple. 

"  Mr.  Fuller,"  said  Xed.  "  you've  heard  how  they  came 
out  at  Harper's  Ferry.  The  Abolitionists  beaten.  Old 
John  Brown  and  his  companions  who  were  not  killed,  in 
prison,  and  the  excitement  intense  all  over  the  country." 

"  Yes,  it's  only  another  instance  of  the  terrible  conflict 
between  slavery  and  freedom,"  said  James,  ''  though  Cap 
tain  Brown  shouldn't  have  attempted  such  a  raid." 

"  But,  father,"  said  Samuel.  "  it  was  to  free  the  slaves." 

"  I  know  he  thought  so,  my  boy,  but  shedding  innocent 
blood  was  hardly  the  right  way  to  begin." 

"  It  was  scarcely  innocent  blood,  it  was  the  blood  of 
slaveholders,"  returned  Samuel. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me,"  said  Rachel,  who  could 
scarcely  ever  be  quiet  when  the  cause  of  freedom  was  un 
der  discussion,  "  I  think  John  Brown,  like  all  Puritans, 
believes  right  will  triumph  in  the  end,  and  would  triumph 
now  if  men  could  be  made  to  obey.  He  thinks  the  gospel 
of  the  sword  is  the  only  reasonable  gospel,  because  right 
is  absolute.  He  appears  to  think,  so  far  as  I  can  learn 
about  the  matter,  that  the  Southerners  know  their  cause 


Boarding-School  Life.  291 

is  wrong,  and  that  they  are  weak  because  fighting  against 
their  conscience.  He  thinks  the  whole  black  race  are 
ready  to  rise  and  ready  to  fight  for  freedom,  and  even 
Frederick  Douglass  thinks  it  may  have  to  come  to  that." 

"  You  are  probably  right,  Miss  Aldrich,  in  your  esti 
mate  of  Brown's  motives,  but  I  personally  know  that  this 
particular  scheme  was  disapproved  by  Douglass  who  met 
Captain  Brown  and  sought  to  dissuade  him  from  the 
raid,"  answered  James. 

"  I  did  not  know  about  that,"  said  Rachel,  "  but  I  am 
almost  sure  that  war  will  come  before  this  matter  can  be 
settled  right.  Papa,  and  mama  think  so.  They  say 
nothing  is  ever  settled  till  it  is  settled  right,  and  that  no 
compromise  measures  will  avail." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  James,  "  about  war,  but 
God  avert  the  terrible  day.  I  am  sure  you  are  on  the 
side  of  truth  about  compromise." 

Then  the  girls  had  to  leave  amidst  mutual  expressions 
of  regret.  Lucy  was  so  glad  they  had  come,  and  hoped 
they  would  both  feel  free  to  run  in  often  without  special 
invitation,  and  James  took  Rachel's  hand  in  a  warm 
clasp,  and  a  hearty  "  God  bless  you,"  as  he  said  "  Fare 
well." 

Samuel  must  see  the  young  ladies  safely  to  the  Acad 
emy,  while  Ned  and  Sadie  went  that  way  to  their  house 
on  the  hill. 

Rachel  took  Samuel's  arm,  and  Edith  Snow  stepped 
ahead,  and  linked  her  arm  in  Sadie's,  while  the  three  kept 
well  in  advance  of  Samuel  and  Rachel  following  slowly 
behind. 

"  Miss  Snow,"  said  Sadie,  "  you  are  a  very  nice  girl 
to  have  such  clear  insight." 

"  O  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Miss  Snow  with  a 
little  sigh.  "  That,  Mrs.  Jones,  is  a  clear  case  of  love  at 
first  sight,  though  Miss  Aldrich  doesn't  know  it  yet ;  but 
isn't  Mr.  Fuller  handsome,  and  a  fine  young  man  beside? 
Cora  Wells  at  the  Academy  is  really  wild  after  him,  but 
he  hardly  looks  at  her.  It  isn't  often  that  you  find  a 
handsome,  bright,  good  young  man  at  the  same  time,  but 
he  appears  to  be  all  three,"  and  Miss  Snow  gave  another 
sigh. 


292  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Yes,  he  is  all  three,"  said  Sadlie,  "  and  worthy  of  any 
good  young  woman  whom  he  may  choose." 

When  the  trio  reached  the  boarding-hall,  Samuel  and 
Rachel  were  so  far  behind  that  Edith  went  in  without 
waiting  for  her  chum,  bidding1  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  good 
night.  It  was  quite  a  little  while  after  that  Rachel  en 
tered  the  room,  with  a  bright  spot  on  her  cheek,  and 
Edith  had  a  very  strong  suspicion  that  Samuel  could  tell 
the  cause,  though  she  didn't  say  a  word  to  Rachel  about 
it. 


The  Shadow  of  Death.  293 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 

"  Careless  seems  the  great  Avenger; 

History's  pages  but  record 
One  death  grapple  in  the  darkness 

'Twixt  old  systems  and  the  word. 
Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold 

Wrong  forever  on  the  throne, — 
Yet  that  scaffold  sways  the  future, 

And,  behind  the  dim  unknown, 
Standeth  God  within  the  shadow, 

Keeping  watch  above  his  own." 
— Lowell. 

WHEN  Horace  Fuller  and  his  companions  finally  es 
caped  to  the  mountains,  they  were  much  exhausted,  but 
a  day's  rest  and  sleep  greatly  refreshed  them.  Horace 
went  out  the  following  night  to  learn  what  had  been  the 
fate  of  his  companions  in  freedom's  cause.  Under  cover 
of  darkness,  he  listened  to  conversation  from  some  of 
the  people  in  the  edge  of  the  town. 

"  They've  captured  them ;  broke  in  the  engine-house 
this  morning;  killed  most  of  them,  though  they  say  the 
head  man  and  a  few  others,  badly  wounded,  are  still 
alive." 

"  Who  is  their  leader?  "  asked  one. 

"  Old  Capt'n  Brown,  who  was  in  Kansas,"  was  the 
answer.  '  They've  lanced  him  pretty  severely,  Jim  says ; 
bled  like  a  hog.  Bill  Simmons,  one  of  the  militia,  run  hi> 
ban'net  into  him  three  times." 

"  What  they  goin'  to  do  with  'em?  " 

"  Put  'em  in  jail  at  Charlestown  and  then  hang  'em, 
of  course." 

Horace  listened  to  the  different  comments  on  the  raid, 
and  realized  what  a  terrible  excitement  had  come  to 
pass ;  then  a  sudden  resolution  was  formed  and  he  re 
turned  to  the  mountain  camp. 


294  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  next  morning,  he  announced  his  determination  to 
the  men. 

"  Freemen,  our  cause  for  the  present  is  hopeless.  Cap 
tain  Brown  and  all  left  alive  of  our  band,  except  our 
selves,  are  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  They  will  be 
put  in  jail  and  probably  executed.  My  work  here  is 
done.  I  shall  return  to  one  of  our  northern  cities,  and 
seek  to  carry  out  a  scheme  for  seeing  John  Brown  again 
if  possible.  You  may  go  with  me  or  remain  here  as  you 
choose. ' 

"  We  will  go  back  Xortn,"  the  company  responded. 

And  so  they  started.  Horace  soon  reached  Philadel 
phia,  went  to  a  prominent  newspaper  office  and  applied 
for  the  position  of  correspondent  to  write  up  the  John 
Brown  raid  and  its  results.  With  recommendations  in 
his  pocket,  and  an  appearance  of  honesty  and  ability, 
after  some  testing  in  the  office,  Horace  was  hired  for  the 
work.  He  obtained  through  the  Chronicle's  influence 
some  letters  of  introduction  from  prominent  men ;  to 
Colonel  Washington  and  the  superintendent  of  the  Har 
per's  Ferry  Rifle  Works. 

After  a  clean  shave,  and  entire  change  of  dress,  very 
few  would  have  taken  him  for  the  bearded  insurgent  who 
had  fought  so  valiantly  at  Harper's  Ferry.  He  arrived 
on  the  ground  a  few  days  later  and  began  to  reconnoiter, 
and  write  up  the  affair.  He  presented  his  letters,  and 
as  a  newspaper  correspondent,  was  fairly  well  treated, 
though  it  was  supposed  he  held  northern  sentiments ;  yet 
not  even  Colonel  Washington  appeared  to  suspect  that 
he  was  one  ot  the  escaped  insurgents. 

Through  the  kindness  of  the  jailer,  who,  throughout 
had  been  very  obliging  to  Brown,  he  obtained  an  inter 
view  with  the  Captain. 

Brown  was  astonished  to  see  him  with  his  present 
appearance. 

"  I  will  help  you  to  escape,"  said  Horace. 

"  I  doubt  if  I  ought  to  encourage  an  attempt  to  escape 
to  save  my  life.  Fuller.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  think  my 
great  object  will  be  nearer  accomplishment  fey  my  death 
than  by  my  life," 


The  Shadow  of  Death.  295 

"  But,  Captain,  we  can  do  some  more  grand  work  in 
the  cause  of  liberty  if  you  can  be  rescued." 

"  I  have  a  feeling  that  my  death,  like  Sampson's,  will 
be  a  greater  victory  to  the  cause,  than  my  life  would  be. 
I  have  it  borne  in  upon  me  that  I  should  not  countenance 
any  plans  for  my  rescue,  and  have  so  intimated  to  others, 
when  approached  on  the  subject.  I  am  convinced  that 
my  work  is  done." 

No  word  or  arguments  of  Horace  could  move  him 
from  his  purpose,  and  in  another  interview,  came  the 
final  reply. 

"  I  would  not  walk  out  of  my  prison  if  the  door  was 
left  open." 

The  revelation  had  come  to  his  soul,  that  his  death 
would  be  a  greater  victory  for  freedom  than  his  life 
could  be. 

Like  Socrates,  he  could  calmly  die  for  what  he  believed 
to  be  right,  and  like  One  higher  than  Socrates,  "  He 
saved  others,  himself  he  could  not  save." 

Horace  on  his  way  to  Charlestown  had  encountered 
the  police  scouts  from  Baltimore,  sent  to  discover  mili 
tary  organizations  in  Ohio,  which  were  suspected  of 
planning  another  raid ;  but  as  there  were  no  such  plans, 
the  journey  of  the  scouts  had  been  unsuccessful. 

At  Harper's  Ferry,  Horace  was  in  some  danger  from 
ihe  bayonets  of  the  militia.  He  saw  some  of  the  marks 
of  the  recent  fight,  splintered  beams  at  the  station-house, 
and  balls  in  the  buildings. 

Inside  the  engine-house,  on  the  whitewashed  brick 
wall,  was  a  deep  red  stain,  the  blood  from  the  old  Puri 
tan,  where  they  struck  him  down,  and  another  long  streak 
with  long  hairs  from  Brown's  head,  where  the  gash  had 
been  made  against  the  bricks. 

The  officials  were  very  cautious  and  carried  revolvers 
about  them,  even  when  driving  along  the  road  with  any 
visitors  or  correspondents,  such  was  their  fear. 

"  Mr.  Vallandigham  has  been  to  see  you,  I  hear,"  said 
Horace  to  Brown,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  old  man,  "  he  questioned  me 
severely." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  he  said  of  you  ? " 


296  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  No,"  replied  Brown. 

"  He  said,"  continued  Horace,  "  'it  is  in  vain  to  under 
rate  either  the  man  or  the  conspiracy.  Captain  John 
Brown  is  as  brave  and  resolute  a  man  as  ever  headed 
an  insurrection ;  and  in  a  good  cause,  and  with  a  sufficient 
force,  would  have  been  a  consummate  partisan  com 
mander.  He  has  coolness,  daring,  persistency,  the  stoic 
faith  and  patience,  and  a  firmness  of  will  and  purpose  un 
conquerable.  He  is  the  furthest  possible  removed  from 
the  ordinary  ruffian,  fanatic  or  madman.  Certainly  it  is 
one  of  the  best  planned  and  best  executed  conspiracies 
that  ever  failed.'  ' 

"  He  does  me  too  much  honor,"  answered  the  captain. 

"  We  don't  think  so,"  was  the  reply. 

Horace  had  arrived  in  time  to  be  present  at  the  trial  of 
Brown  and  his  associates.  The  legal  proceedings  were 
of  absorbing  interest  to  the  whole  community.  The  day 
the  trial  began,  Brown  was  still  weak  and  suffering  from 
his  wounds ;  so  also  was  Stevens.  The  whole  terror- 
stricken  state,  even  yet  fearful  of  an  armed  rescue,  waited 
for  the  verdict.  The  lawyers  for  the  defense  were  timid 
and  afraid,  but  went  through  the  form  of  trial. 

Horace  wrote  the  following  account  for  the  Phila 
delphia  Chronicle: 

"  Brown  appeared  to  great  advantage.  When  papers 
were  presented  for  identification,  '  I  will  identify  any  of 
my  handwriting  and  save  all  trouble,'  said  he. 

"  He  indignantly  refused  to  allow  the  defense  of  in 
sanity  to  be  urged  in  his  behalf.  '  I  am  as  sane  a  man  as 
ever  lived,'  he  said. 

"  He  was  convicted  and  brought  suddenly  into  court 
to  listen  to  his  sentence.  '  Stand  up,'  said  the  Court. 

"  Brown  obeyed. 

'  What  have  you  to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should 
not  be  pronounced  upon  you  ?  ' 

"  He  was  taken  somewhat  by  surprise,  but  rallied  and 
spoke  in  tender,  gentle  tones  as  follows : — 

'  In  the  first  place,  I  deny  everything  but  what  I 
have  all  along  admitted — the  design  on  my  part  to  free 
the  slaves.  I  intended  certainly  to  have  made  a  clear 
thing  of  that  matter,  as  I  did  last  winter,  when  I  went 


The  Shadow  of  Death.  297 

into  Missouri,  and  took  slaves  without  the  snapping  of  a 
gun  on  either  side,  moved  them  through  the  country,  and 
finally  left  them  in  Canada.  I  designed  to  have  done  the 
same  thing  again  on  a  larger  scale.  That  was  all  I  in 
tended.  I  never  did  intend  murder  or  treason,  or  the 
destruction  of  property,  or  to  excite  slaves  to  rebellion 
or  to  make  insurrection. 

"  '  I  have  another  objection,  and  that  is  that  it  is  unjust 
that  I  should  suffer  such  penalty.  Had  I  interfered  in  the 
manner  fairly  proved  in  behalf  of  the  rich,  the  powerful, 
the  intelligent,  the  so-called  great,  or  in  behalf  of  any  of 
their  friends,  either  father,  mother,  brother  or  sister,  wife 
or  children,  or  any  of  that  class,  and  suffered  and  sacri 
ficed  what  I  have  in  this  interference,  it  would  have  been 
all  right,  and  every  man  in  this  court  would  have  deemed 
it  an  act  worthy  of  reward  rather  than  punishment. 

"  '  This  Court  acknowledges,  I  suppose,  the  validity 
of  the  Law  of  God.  I  see  a  book  kissed  here,  which  I 
suppose  is  the  Bible.  That  teaches  me  that  all  things 
whatsoever  I  would  that  men  should  do  unto  me,  I  should 
do  even  so  to  them.  I  endeavored  to  act  upon  that  in 
struction.  I  am  yet  too  young  to  understand  that  God 
is  any  respecter  of  persons.  I  believe  interfering  as  I 
have  done  in  behalf  of  His  despised  poor,  was  not  wrong, 
but  right.  Now,  if  it  is  deemed  necessary  that  I  should 
forfeit  my  life  for  the  furtherance  of  the  ends  of  justice, 
and  mingle  my  blood  further  with  the  blood  of  my  chil 
dren,  and  with  the  blood  of  millions  in  this  slave  country 
whose  rights  are  disregarded  by  wicked,  cruel  and  un 
just  enactments,  I  submit ;  so  let  it  be  done.  I  feel  no 
consciousness  of  guilt.  Every  man  who  joined  me  in 
this  cause  joined  of  his  own  accord,  and  the  greater  part 
at  their  own  expense.  Now  I  have  done.' 

"  Your  Chronicle  correspondent  then  heard  sentence 
pronounced,  and  saw  the  old  Captain  carried  back  to 
jail." 

Horace  visited  Brown  as  often  as  the  jailer  would 
allow. 

"  We  were  friends  years  ago,"  said  Brown  ;  "  it  is  a 
pleasure  for  me  to  see  him." 

One  day  he  said  to  Horace :    "  When  I  am  publicly 


298  Love  and  Liberty. 

murdered,  T  would  like  my  only  religious  attendants  to 
be  poor,  dirty  little  ragged,  bareheaded  and  barefooted 
slave  boys  and  girls,  led  by  some  old  gray-haired  slave 
mother." 

He  asked  one  clergyman  who  visited  him  :  "  Are  you 
willing  to  fight  in  case  of  need  for  the  freedom  of  the 
slaves  ?  " 

"  I  am  not,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  will  thank  you  to  let  me  alone,"  came  the  answer ; 
"  your  prayers  would  be  an  abomination  to  my  God." 

He  told  another  minister:  "  I  would  not  insult  God  by 
bowing  in  prayer  with  any  one  who  had  the  blood  of  the 
slave  on  his  skirts." 

Brown  spent  much  of  the  time  in  jail  in  writing  letters. 
In  a  letter  addressed  to  his  wife  and  family,  November 
8,  he  exhorts  them  all  to  piety.  "  May  God  Almighty 
comfort  all  your  hearts  and  soon  wipe  away  all  tears  from 
your  eyes.  May  all  your  names  be  written  in  the  Lamb's 
book  of  life;  may  you  all  have  the  purifying  and  sus 
taining  influences  of  the  Christian  religion,  is  the  ear 
nest  prayer  of  your  affectionate  husband  and  father.  I 
cannot  remember  a  night  so  dark  as  to  hinder  the  coming 
of  day,  nor  a  storm  so  furious  or  dreadful  as  to  prevent 
the  return  of  warm  sunshine  and  a  cloudless  sky.  To 
God  and  His  infinite  mercy  T  commend  you." 

In  reply  to  Lydia  Maria  Child,  he  commended  to  her 
interest  the  wives  of  his  sons  who  had  fallen  in  the  con 
flict,  and  also  his  own  wife  and  children. 

"  I  am  cheerful  under  all  afflicting  circumstances  and 
prospects,  having,  as  I  trust,  the  peace  of  God  to  rule  in 
my  heart." 

One  day  a  man  pointed  out  to  Horace  the  place  where 
the  negroes  had  burned  the  stacks  of  one  of  the  jurors 
who  had  found  Brown  guilty. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  whole  affair?"  asked  his 
attendant. 

"  Think  Brown  is  an  honest  man,  who  believed  he  was 
doing  his  duty,"  answered  Horace. 

'  They  say  Henry  Ward  Beecher  is  coming  to  pray 
with  him  on  the  scaffold." 

"  Suppose  he  does,"  was  the  reply. 


The   Shadow  of  Death.  299 

"  Some  say  they'll  hang  him  with  old  Brown,  but  Gen. 
Taliaferro  says  if  he  comes  not  a  hair  of  his  head  shall 
be  harmed,"  said  the  man. 

The  night  before  the  execution  Brown's  wife  arrived. 

Horace  accompanied  her  to  the  jail ;  then,  with  the 
jailer,  went  aside  and  left  them  together. 

The  interview  was  touching  and  characteristic.  "  Keep 
up  your  spirits,  my  wife." 

"  My  dear  husband,  it  is  a  hard  fate." 

"  Cheer  up,  Mary ;  we  must  bear  it  the  best  we 
can." 

"  Our  pooj-  children — God  help  them,"  she  said. 

'  Those  that  are  dead  to  this  world  are  angels  in  an 
other.  Tell  those  living  that  their  father  died  without  a 
single  regret  for  the  course  he  has  pursued,"  replied 
Brown. 

They  prayed  together,  then  took  supper  with  the  jailer 
in  his  own  apartment.  The  final  farewell  was  simple 
and  heroic,  in  keeping  with  the  training  and  belief  of 
both.  "  Good-by,  my  wife,  we'll  meet  again  beyond  the 
river.  You've  been  a  good  wife.  Train  the  younger 
children  to  habits  of  industry.  God  keep  and  bless  you 
evermore." 

"  Good-by,  my  husband.  It  seems  I  cannot  have  it 
so.  What  will  I  do  when  you  are  gone?  Only  God  can 
help  me  in  my  hour  of  trial,"  and  the  poor  woman  burst 
into  tears. 

But  Brown  put  his  strong  arm  about  her  and  com 
forted  her.  They  kissed  each  other,  and  then  the  jailer 
took  her  away. 

On  the  morning  of  December  2d,  Brown  rose  at  day 
break  and  wrote  till  half-past  ten,  when  he  was  told  to 
prepare  for  death. 

He  shook  hands  with  the  sheriff,  and  went  to  the  cells 
of  his  companions,  giving  them  each  twenty-five  cents, 
except  Cook,  who,  he  claimed,  had  made  false  confession. 
He  denied  that  he  ever  sent  Cook  to  Harper's  Ferry,  as 
the  latter  had  declared  in  his  confession,  llazlitt,  Brown 
for  some  reason  refused  to  visit,  denying  any  knowledge 
concerning  him. 

Stevens,  his  close  friend,  he  charged  not  to  betray  his 


300  Love  and  Liberty. 

companions,  shook  hands  with  great  kindness,  and  in  a 
voice  choking  with  emotion  bade  him  a  last  good-by. 

At  eleven  o'clock  he  walked  out  of  the  jail.  Horace 
Fuller  was  there,  and  wrote:  "Brown  has  a  radiant 
countenance,  and  the  step  of  a  conqueror ;  his  face  is 
ever  joyous,  and  he  appears  light  of  heart." 

He  had  scarcely  written  these  words,  when  a  strange 
sight  met  his  vision.  A  black  woman,  poorly  dressed, 
with  a  little  child  in  her  arms,  and  an  older  one  by  her 
side,  bareheaded  and  barefooted,  stood  near  the  jail  door. 
The  mother's  face  was  filled  with  great  anxiety,  and  her 
eyes  suffused  with  tears.  "  We've  come  ter  bid  yer  good- 
by  and  pray  God  bless  you,"  said  the  woman. 

Horace  recalled  Brown's  refusal  to  allow  any  clergy 
man  who  believed  in  slavery  to  offer  prayer  for  him,  and 
his  statement,  if  any  poor  slave  mother  wished  to  put  up 
a  prayer  for  his  soul,  he  would  be  glad.  Then  he  saw  the 
old  grizzly  warrior  marching  to  the  scaffold,  stoop  in 
the  ranks,  his  hands  pinioned  by  the  fetters,  and  press  a 
kiss  on  the  dusky  baby  face. 

As  his  lips  pressed  the  child's  face,  the  mother  could 
scarce  restrain  herself,  and  cried  out,  "  God  bless  you, 
old  man,  and  take  yer  straight  to  Heaven.  I  wish  1  could 
help  you,  but  I  can't." 

And  looking  at  the  stern  old  Puritan,  it  seemed  to 
Horace  that  an  aureo'e  of  splendor  encircled  his  brow, 
and  the  long  grizzly  beard  which  had  grown  since  Fuller 
first  met  him  in  the  Adirondack's,  appeared  the  beard  of 
an  ancient  Israelitish  patriarch,  when  he  blessed  his  first 
born  son. 

John  Brown  had  that  far-away  look  which  Horace  had 
several  times  seen  on  his  face,  after  he  had  returned  from 
the  solitude,  where  he  had  been  in  prayer.  Horace  look 
out  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  away  his  tears,  and  some  of 
the  officials  and  soldiers  had  moisture  in  their  eyes,  while 
others  laughed  and  jeered  at  the  old  man's  act. 

"  John  Urown  of  Osawatomie,  they  led  him  out  to  die  ; 
And  lo  !  a  poor  slave  mother  with  her  little  child  pressed  nigh  ; 
Then  the  bold,  blue  eye  grew  tender,  and   the  old  harsh   face  grew 

mild, 
As  he  stopped  between  the  jeering  ranks,  and  kissed  the  negro's  child. 


The  Shadow  of  Death.  301 

"  The  shadows  of  his  stormy  life  that  moment  fell  apart 
And  they  who  blamed  the  bloody  hand  forgave  the  loving  heart. 
That  kiss  from  all  its  guilty  means  redeemed  the  good  intent, 
And  round  the  grisly  fighter's  hair 
The  martyr's  aureole  bent. 

"  Perish  with  him  the  folly,  that  seeks  through  evil  good, 
Long  live  the  generous  purpose  unstained  with  human  blood. 
Not  the  raid  of  midnight  terror, 
But  the  thought  which  underlies  ; 
Not  the  borderer's  pride  of  daring, 
But  the  Christian  sacrifice." 

They  marched  him  on. 

"  Do  you  feel  any  fear?  "  asked  the  jailer. 

Brown  replied :  "  It  has  been  characteristic  of  me  from 
infancy  never  to  suffer  from  physical  fear.  I  have  suf 
fered  more  from  bashfulness  than  from  fear." 

The  day  was  clear  and  bright,  but  no  visitors  were 
allowed  along  the  road  to  witness  the  solemn  scene.  The 
people  had  been  told  to  be  on  the  lookout  at  home  for 
fear  of  an  attempted  rescue. 

"  I  see  no  citizens  here,"  said  Brown.  "  That  ought 
not  to  be ;  citizens  should  be  allowed  to  be  present  as  \vell 
as  others." 

"  Who  is  that  man  ?  "  asked  Horace  of  General  Talia- 
ferro.  He  referred  to  one  of  the  militia  pompously  pa 
rading  around  the  scaffold. 

"  His  name  is  John  Wilkes  Booth,"  replied  the  gen 
eral. 

Horace  observed  the  splendid  figure  of  Col.  Turner 
Ashley  on  his  magnificent  charger,  and  Prof.  Jackson,  a 
stern,  religious-looking  man,  who  commanded  the  gay 
Lexington  cadets ;  but  he  little  knew  that  the  former 
would  be  killed  near  by,  and  the  latter  be  called  "  Stone 
wall,"  and  die  defending  slavery.  The  old  Captain  was 
seated  on  his  coffin ;  he  wore  a  slouch  hat  turned  up  at 
the  front.  The  beautiful  day  moved  his  soul ;  the  highly 
cultivated  farms,  broad  landscape  and  picturesque  vil 
lage  awoke  his  love  of  nature. 

It  was  about  fifty  rods  to  the  scaffold.  The  procession 
was  very  brilliant.  One  would  have  taken  it  to  be  some 
great  military  festival ;  six  companies  of  militia  sur 
rounded  the  wagon. 


302  Love  and  Liberty. 

His  jailer,  Capt.  Avis,  who  had  hcen  one  of  his  bravest 
captors,  and  treated  him  most  kindly,  was  in  the  wagon 
with  him. 

"  What  a  beautiful  country  !  "  exclaimed  Brown,  sur 
veying  the  grandeur  of  the  scene  before  him. 

They  reached  the  scaffold ;  with  great  emotion,  he 
bade  Horace  and  some  other  acquaintances  good-by  at 
the  foot  of  the  gallows.  His  step  was  firm,  with  bearing 
calm  and  hopeful,  as  he  mounted  the  scaffold. 

'  The  hour  has  come,"  he  said  to  Jailer  Avis.  "  I  have 
no  words  to  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to  me." 

They  pinioned  his  elbows  and  ankles ;  the  white  cap 
was  drawn  over  his  eyes ;  the  hangman's  rope  was  ad 
justed  around  his  neck,  and  he  was  led  to  the  center  of 
the  drop. 

"  Shall  I  give  you  a  handkerchief  and  let  you  drop  it 
as  a  signal?  "  asked  the  sheriff. 

"  No,  I  am  ready  at  any  time,  but  do  not  keep  me  need 
lessly  waiting,"  was  the  answer. 

The  old  man  stood  with  his  face  toward  the  east,  and 
Horace  saw  that  the  sun  lighted  up  his  countenance  with 
a  noontide  glory. 

The  militia  were  a  long  time  getting  into  place.  Eight 
een  minutes  elapsed,  and  the  signal  had  not  been  given. 
Even  the  soldiers  began  to  mutter  "  Shame." 

The  order  was  then  given,  the  rope  cut  with  a  hatchet 
and  the  trap  fell,  but  so  short  a  distance  that  the  victim 
continued  to  suffer  and  struggle  for  some  time.  He 
hung  thirty-eight  minutes  and  was  pronounced  dead. 

Horace  was  granted  permission  to  accompany  the  body 
to  Harper's  Ferry,  where  it  was  delivered  to  the  weeping 
widow.  With  Horace  and  some  other  friends,  she  started 
for  her  northern  home,  bearing  the  sacred  dust,  to  the 
shadows  of  the  great  mountains  which  her  husband  loved 
so  well,  and  where  his  kindred  dwelt,  who  tenderly  loved 
him. 

There,  Wendell  Phillips  pronounced  an  eloquent  eu 
logy  over  the  bodv  at  the  place  of  burial,  and  there  it 
quietly  rests. 

With  Greeley  we  say,  "  There  let  it  rest  forever,  while 
the  path  to  it  is  worn  deeper  and  deeper  by  the  pilgrim 


The  Shadow  of  Death.  303 

feet  of  that  race  he  so  bravely,  though  rashly,  endeavored 
to  rescue  from  a  hideous,  debasing  thraldom." 

All  the  companions  of  Brown  were  soon  after  exe 
cuted.  Horace  Fuller's  soul  was  full  of  tumult.  His 
friend,  his  Captain  and  hero  had  been  publicly  executed. 
"  He  died  in  a  holy  cause,"  he  said  to  himself;  "  my  turn 
will  come  later." 

Old  John  Brown  is  immortal.  He  is  one  of  those  his 
toric  characters  that  will  never  be  forgotten.  He  really 
sounded  tire  tocsin  of  civil  war.  Call  him  foolish,  child 
ish,  insane,  fanatical,  or  anything  you  please,  but  the  fact 
remains  that  no  other  man  has  awakened  in  men's  hearts 
who  love  the  cause  of  freedom  grander  emotions  or 
loftier  aspirations  than  this  rugged  Puritan.  He  was 
not  intellectually  great  like  Cromwell,  yet  he  resembled 
him  ;  and  while  the  centuries  come  and  go,  his  name  will 
still  endure  as  one  who  loved  his  brother  man. 

The  day  of  Brown's  execution,  Victor  Hugo,  from  his 
place  of  exile  in  Germany,  wrote : 

"  John  Brown,  condemned  to  death,  is  to  be  hanged 
to-day.  His  hangman  is  not  the  judge,  the  Governor 
nor  the  state  of  Virginia, — his  hangman, — we  shudder 
to  think  it,  and  say  it, — is  the  whole  American  Republic. 
Politically  speaking,  the  murder  of  John  Brown  will  be 
an  irrevocable  mistake ;  it  will  deal  the  Union  a  con 
cealed  wound,  which  will  finally  sunder  the  states.  Let 
America  know  and  consider  that  there  is  one  thing  more 
shocking  than  Cain  killing  Abel ;  it  is  Washington  kill 
ing  Spartacus." 

The  day  of  his  death,  funeral  services  were  held  at 
Concord,  Massachusetts,  where  the  Abolitionists  and  lit 
erary  sages  of  the  historic  town  gave  vent  to  the  sorrow 
of  their  hearts,  and  Edmund  Sears,  the  Wayland  pastor, 
read  the  following  original  lines  : 

"  Not  any  spot  six  feet  by  two, 
Will  hold  a  man  like  thee  ; 
John  }->ro\vn  will  tramp  the  shaking  earth, 

From  Ulue  Ridge  to  the  sea, 
Till  the  strong  angel  comes  at  last 
And  opens  each  dungeon  door, 
And  God's  great  charter  holds  and  waves 
O'er  all  His  humble  poor. 


304  Love  and  Liberty. 

"And  then  the  humble  poor  will  come 

In  that  far  distant  day, 
And  from  the  felon's  nameless  grave, 

They'll  brush  the  leaves  away, 
And  gray  old  men  will  point  the  spot 

Beneath  the  pine-tree  shade, 
As  children  ask  with  streaming  eyes 

Where  old  John  Brown  is  laid  !  " 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  declared  that  in  Brown's  death, 
"  the  gallows  was  made  glorious  like  the  Cross." 

A  little  later,  Victor  Hugo  wrote  again,  "  Slavery  in 
all  its  forms  will  disappear.  What  the  South  slew  last 
December  was  not  John  Brown,  but  slavery.  Henceforth 
whatever  President  Buchanan  may  say  in  his  shameful 
message,  the  American  Union  must  be  considered  dis 
solved.  Between  the  North  and  the  South  stands  the 
gallows  of  Brown.  Such  a  crime  cannot  be  shared." 

And  when  Garibaldi  triumphed  in  Sicily,  he  also  said : 
"  Grand  are  the  liberators  of  mankind.  Yesterday  we 
gave  our  tears ;  to-day  our  hosannas  are  heard  ;  Provi 
dence  deals  in  these  compensations.  John  Brown  failed 
in  America,  but  Garibaldi  has  won  in  Europe.  Man 
kind,  shuddering  at  the  infamous  gallows  of  Charlestown, 
takes  courage  once  more  at  the  flashing  sword  of  Cata- 
lafimi." 

John  Brown,  however,  did  not  fail.  If  it  is  true  that 
he  won  no  battle,  headed  no  party,  and  repealed  no  law, 
and  that  he  could  not  save  his  own  life  from  a  shameful 
penalty,  yet  the  cause  which  he  loved  has  triumphed. 

From  the  Charlestown  gallows  has  gone  forth  the  voice 
of  freedom,  and  from  the  grave  of  the  old  Puritan,  the 
hero  of  Osawatomie,  the  clanking  chains  of  the  bond 
men  have  been  broken  asunder! 

"  John  Brown's  body  lies  mouldering  in  the  grave, 
But  his  soul  is  marching  on  !  " 


Horace  at  Home.  305 


CHAPTER  LV. 

HORACE  AT  HOME. 

ONE  evening,  Jesse  Fuller  and  his  family  were  seated 
cozily  about  the  table,  when  there  came  a  rap  at  the  door. 
When  it  was  opened,  a  tall  bronzed  man  was  invited  to 
enter.  As  he  stepped  inside,  a  chorus  of  voices  shouted, 
"  Horace !  " 

Ada  clasped  him  about  the  neck  and  kissed  him. 
Gerald  fairly  jumped  for  joy,  and  the  younger  children 
used  all  sorts  of  demonstration. 

"  Why,  Horace,  my  boy,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  didn't 
know  as  we  would  ever  see  you  again." 

"  Mother  dear,  I'm  right  glad  to  look  into  your  face 
once  more ;  I've  been  through  some  strange  experiences, 
but  God  has  brought  me  safely  through  all." 

"Were  you  in  the  John  Brown  raid?"  inquired  his 
father. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  with  Brown  most  of  the  time,  and 
just  back  with  his  body  which  Mrs.  Brown  takes  to  the 
homestead  for  burial." 

"  There's  been  great  excitement,"  said  his  father,  "  all 
through  here ;  we  feared  you  were  killed ;  Thompson  was, 
and  some  others  from  this  section." 

"Didn't  you  get  my  letter  from  Philadelphia?"  in 
quired  Horace. 

"  We've  heard  nothing  from  you  since  Brown  was 
home  last  spring,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I've  written  you  several  times  since  then,"  replied 
Horace.  "It's  strange  about  my  letters;  I've  only  had 
three  letters  from  home  since  I  left,  and  all  of  those  were 
mailed  in  Albany.  How  did  that  happen  ?  " 

Jesse  looked  at  his  wife  and  Ada.  "  Well,  my  son, 
we'll  have  to  tell  you.  The  very  night  you  left  for  Kan 
sas,  Lawrence  Lyons  was  murdered.  One  of  our  knives 
20 


306  Love  and  Liberty. 

with  your  initials  on  it  was  found  near  his  body.  The 
fact  that  you  had  met  him  in  a  duel,  and  that  you  went 
away  that  night,  and  your  knife  found  covered  with 
blood  (for  he  was  stabbed  to  death ),  made  a  strong  chain 
of  evidence  against  you.  The  sheriff  came  to  see  me, 
then  took  the  stage  to  Whitehall  and  followed  after  you, 
but  couldn't  get  on  your  trail.  The  day  of  the  funeral 
some  things  came  out  about  Bill  Jenks,  and  the  deputy 
started  for  his  house  that  night,  but  when  he  got  there, 
Bill  and  Xance  had  left  for  parts  unknown  and  have  not 
been  heard  from  since ;  though  they  were  seen  that  very 
day  by  some  of  the  neighbors  at  their  house.  \Ye  did 
not  wish  any  one  to  know  of  your  stopping  places,  and 
Edgar  Parsons,  who  goes  often  to  Albany,  mailed  all  let 
ters  to  you  from  that  place,  to  allay  any  suspicion.  Why 
your  letters  have  not  reached  us,  I  do  not  understand." 

Horace  Fuller  the  last  few  years  had  been  used  to 
scenes  of  blood,  and  had  probably  killed  more  than  one 
man  in  fair  fight,  but  when  his  father  told  him  of  the 
suspicion  that  he  was  the  murderer  of  Lyons,  he  grew 
deathly  pale. 

"  Water,"  said  Ada,  and  pressed  a  glass  to  his  lips. 
Horace  drank  and  tried  to  brace  himself  against  a  deadly 
faint,  and  at  length  succeeded. 

"  What  do  people  think  about  the  matter  now  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  So  far  as  I  may  learn,"  replied  Jesse,  "  opinion  is 
divided,  but  most  people  think  Jenks  did  the  deed." 

"  I  am  not  safe  in  my  own  home,  then,"  said  Horace. 
"  I  have  no  one  to  put  in  evidence  as  to  my  whereabouts 
that  night.  Brown  is  dead,  and  others  who  went  with 
me  and  knew  of  my  plans." 

"  It's  a  hard  case,"  answered  Jesse,  "  if  Jenks  had  only 
been  captured,  we  are  sure  he  is  the  murderer ;  enough 
has  come  out  to  almost  prove  it." 

"  But  as  he  is  at  large,  if  I  am  known  to  be  here,  with 
all  the  circumstantial  evidence  against  me,  I  would  at 
least  be  committed  to  jail." 

"  I  fear  that  is  so,"  replied  his  father. 

"Where  are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lyons?"  inquired  Horace. 

"  Mrs.  Lyons  went  crazy  over  the  death  of  Lawrence, 


Horace  at  Home.  307 

and  was  taken  by  a  cousin  to  a  town  in  Massachusetts. 
Mr.  Lyons  closed  up  his  business  here,  rented  his  house 
and  left,  nobody  seems  to  know  where." 

'  ihe  curse  came  upon  them,  didn't  it?  and  God  for 
give  me,  but  where's  Marion?  " 

"  Marion  is  in  Glentown,  Massachusetts,"  was  the  an 
swer,  and  then  Mrs.  Fuller  told  him  about  the  adventure 
at  Ptirg-atory,  of  which  Marion  had  written. 

"  Mother,  perhaps  Ray  may  be  the  means  of  restoring 
that  poor  woman  to  reason  and  health  again,"  said 
Horace. 

"  So  we  hope,"  answered  his  mother. 

Horace  had  not  intended  to  remain  long  at  home,  as  he 
had  been  engaged  for  correspondent  of  the  Philadelphia 
paper.  His  articles  had  commanded  the  strongest  ap 
proval  of  the  editors.  They  did  not  seem  to  understand 
how  such  stirring  correspondence  and  clear  statements 
of  the  whole  affair  could  come  from  Horace. 

"  If  they  only  knew  all,"  he  thought,  "  they  would  not 
be  surprised." 

He  had  thought  that  at  present  to  continue  on  the  staff 
would  be  well  for  him,  as  the  pay  was  generous  and  he 
must  wait  for  further  developments  in  the  cause  of  free 
dom,  ere  he  could  take  an  active  part. 

So  he  explained  matters  to  his  family  that  evening, 
and  they  all  agreed  to  keep  matters  secret  concerning 
his  return.  "  Tt  is  probable  some  will  discover  that 
I  came  with  Mrs.  Brown."  he  said,  "  and  I  must  get 
away  within  a  day  or  two,  for  I  have  no  desire  to  be  shut 
up  for  a  crime  which  I  did  not  commit." 

The  next  morning  Gerald  went  to  Westport  and  re 
turned  with  the  news  which  was  all  about,  that  Brown's 
widow  had  returned  with  the  remains  at  North  Elba, 
and  some  heard  that  Horace  had  been  with  her. 

Gerald  had  hard  work  to  appear  ignorant  concerning 
the  matter.  He  brought  a  letter  from  the  post-office 
from  Marion,  which  was  eagerly  read. 

"  GLENTOWN,  December,  1859. 
<l  MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  ADA, — AND  ALL  THE  REST: — 

"  Some  strange  things  are  developing  in  my  experi- 


308  Love  and  Liberty. 

ences.  Ray  is  now  constantly  at  Mr.  Noble's.  Mrs. 
Lyons  can  scarcely  bear  him  from  her  sight.  The  doctors 
say  that  he  only  can  save  her  from  insanity  of  a  perma 
nent  character,  ^l.e  has  always  had  more  or  less  lucid 
periods  since  the  death  ot  Lawrence,  but  since  her  fall,  is 
worse  except  when  Ray  is  near  her.  She  calls  him  Law 
rence  always,  and  the  hallucination  appears  complete  that 
he  is  her  boy. 

"  Of  course  my  history  has  become  known  to  the  fam 
ily  of  Congressman  Noble.  Mr.  Noble  has  been  at  home, 
though  now  returned  to  Congress,  and  was  very  kind  to 
me,  and  is  a  perfect  gentleman. 

"  When  he  discovered  that  my  name  was  Fuller,  and 
that  Ray  in  Mrs.  Lyons'  estimation  was  Lawrence,  he  ap 
peared  to  grasp  the  situation  at  once.  I  do  not  know 
what  passed  between  the  members  of  the  family,  but  one 
day  his  carriage  came  for  me.  I  was  driven  to  his  ele 
gant  home  and  met  them  all  except  Clifford,  who  is 
away  at  College.  Mr.  Noble  said  they  had  discovered 
how  the  resemblance  to  Lawrence  Lyons  in  Ray  came 
about,  and  as  it  was  necessary  for  their  cousin's  health 
to  have  my  boy  there,  I  also  would  be  welcome  at  any 
time.  My  secret  would  be  kept  with  the  family.  Mr. 
Lyons  would  soon  be  here,  and  had  written  that  a  sum 
of  money  had  been  placed  at  the  disposal  of  myself  and 
boy.  If  Mrs.  Lyons  should  recover  health  through  Ray, 
and  desire  to  adopt  him,  with  my  consent,  this  would  be 
clone.  He  also  stated  that  Mr.  Lyons  had  closed  up  his 
home  in  \Yestport  and  was  now  settling  some  affairs  in 
the  Sputh,  but  would  soon  be  with  his  wife  again.  They 
might  possibly  settle  in  Glentown.  They  treated  me 
kindly  except  Mrs.  Noble,  whose  eyes  every  now  and  then 
snapped  like  fire,  and  who  seemed  to  regard  me  in  a 
scornful  way.  It  is  rumored  about  town  that  she  has  a 
very  jealous  disposition  and  a  terrible  temper.  She  said 
nothing  unkind  to  me,  however,  and  Florence,  the 
daughter,  is  a  very  beautiful  and  fine  appearing  young 
woman.  Mr.  Noble  said  it  would  not  be  necessary  for 
me  to  work  at  his  mill  any  more  unless  I  chose ;  and  he 
hoped  I  would  accept  the  money. 

"  Dear  parents,  what  shall  I  do?     I  think,  owing  to  the 


Horace  at  Home.  309 

turn  things  have  taken,  that  my  relation  to  Airs.  Lyons 
will  be  unknown  to  any  others  here ;  but  at  present,  I  am 
working  as  usual,  and  Ray  remains  at  Mr.  Noble's.  It 
will  go  out  that  a  fancied  resemblance  to  her  son  has 
taken  possession  of  Mrs.  Lyons'  mind  with  regard  to 
Ray,  and  no  other  excuse  is  necessary  if  they  wish  to 
adopt  him.  What  shall  I  say  about  the  matter?  Shall 
I  take  any  of  Mr.  Lyons'  money?  My  boy  is  Lawrence's 
son ;  he  cruelly  deceived  me ;  the  family  spurned  me,  as 
I  also  hated  them  and  cursed  them  at  one  time.  But  I 
am  changed,  my  heart  torn,  my  life  utterly  broken.  I 
am  tossed  like  ome  plaything  on  the  great  surging  sea 
of  humanity,  and  who  cares  anything  for  poor,  penitent 
me  except  the  dear  ones  to  whom  I  am  writing? 

"  Then  that  money  is  the  price  of  blood.  How  can  I 
touch  it  even  for  the  sake  of  my  boy,  my  fatherless  boy? 
God  pity  him  whenever  he  knows  the  truth.  I  am  so 
thankful  he  never  knew  that  Lawrence  was  his  father.  I 
wish  Horace  was  home  so  that  he  could,  with  you,  advise 
me.  I  wonder  where  he  is.  The  John  Brown  execution 
has  stirred  this  town  tremendously.  I  suppose  you  recall 
there  are.  some  strong  Abolitionists  here  of  whom  I  have 
spoken.  Mr.  Noble  and  Mr.  Aldrich  are  as  prominent 
as  any. 

"  God  bless  you  all.  I  wish  to  see  Ada  more  than  I 
can  tell. 

"Love  to  every  one;  put  up  a  prayer  sometimes  for 
your  poor 

"  MARION." 

"  P.  S. — I  forgot  to  mail  this  letter  when  I  went  to 
work  this  noon,  and  who  should  call  on  me  when  I 
reached  home  but  Justin  Lyons.  He  is  white-headed  and 
so  changed  that  I  did  not  know  him ;  in  fact  I  never  saw 
him  many  times  anyway.  He  says  that  his  heart  has 
been  broken,  and  all  his  pride  and  ambition  destroyed  by 
the  course  of  events.  His  daughters  all  died;  his  only 
son  had  disappointed  him,  even  before  his  death.  '  Miss 
Fuller,'  said  he,  '  whatever  you  may  think,  the  boy  was 
trained  to  habits  of  virtue  and  uprightness ;  I  know  now 
that  he  cruelly  wronged  you,  but  do  not  judge  his  parents 


3io  Love  and  Liberty. 

too  harshly.  We  were  wrong,  but  we  have  suffered. 
My  poor  wife,  who  idolized  her  boy,  has  gone  insane  and 
an  avenging  God  seems  about  to  restore  her  to  reason 
through  your  child,  our  grandchild.  I  have  to-day 
hired  a  house  in  this  town,  taken  my  wife  there,  hired 
servants  and  nurses  and  your  boy  is  with  us.  If  you 
will  come,  you  will  also  be  welcome.' 

"  To  this  I  demurred,  but  consented  to  allow  Ray  to 
remain  if  he  might  come  and  sec  me  sometimes.  This 
was  readily  granted. 

"  '  With  your  consent,'  he  continued,  '  I  will  adopt  him, 
whether  my  wife  recovers  or  not.' 

I  replied  that  I  had  been  taught  that  money  earned  by 
slavery  was  the  price  of  blood. 

"  'Miss  Fuller,'  he  replied,  '  knowing  the  feelings  of 
your  family,  I  expected  some  reference  to  this  matter, 
and  will  tell  you  that  I  have  striven  to  undo  what  I  could 
of  the  evil  of  which  I  have  been  guilty.  I  have  hunted 
up  during  the  last  few  months  all  that  1  could  of  my  old 
slaves,  and  purchased  them,  given  them  manumission 
papers  and  have  seen  most  of  them  settled  in  comfort 
able  homes  in  the  North,  or  sent  to  Canada.  The  case 
about  which  I  felt  worst  was  Margaret  Garner  and  her 
family.  After  long  search  I  found  them  at  Xew  Orleans, 
and  freed  them  all.  They  have  come  to  Glentown  with 
me,  and  I  shall  find  employment  for  them  in  my  own 
home  or  elsewhere.  I  have  also  learned  this  day  that 
her  brother's  widow  and  two  boys  live  here,  though  Joe 
is  dead.  There  is  another  matter,'  he  continued,  '  that  is, 
all  my  property  has  not  come  from  slaveholding.  Even 
when  I  lived  in  the  South  I  had  large  investments  in  the 
North,  and  that  is  one  reason  when  my  wife's  health  gave 
out,  that  we  came  this  way.  And  now  I  will  tell  you  : 
At  the  funeral  of  my  boy,  my  wife  raving  at  horn*,  my 
last  earthly  hope  and  prop  gone,  I  cried  in  my  heart  for 
forgiveness  for  my  past  errors  and  sins,  and  promised 
with  God's  help  to  make  amends  so  far  as  possible  for  all 
wrongs.  This  I  have  done  so  far  as  I  have  been  able, 
with  the  exception  of  Joe's  family,  whom  I  shall  see 
to-morrow,  and  yourself  and  boy.  This  is  my  proposi 
tion  to  you.  I  have  rented  the  Westport  property  for  the 


Horace  at  Home.  311 

present,  which  is  certainly  worth  ten  thousand  dollars. 
I  propose  to  deed  that  to  you,  place  ten  thousand  dollars 
to  your  credit  in  government  bonds,  adopt  your  boy  as 
my  own,  and  make  him  heir  to  the  rest  of  my  property 
upon  the  death  of  myself  and  wife.  After  doing  all  I  can 
to  atone  for  the  past,  I  do  not  think  the  balance  of  my 
property  would  be  considered  blood-money,  especially  as 
a  large  part  of  it  had  no  connection  with  slaveholding. 
There  is  only  one  thing  more,'  continued  Mr.  Lyons, 
'  that  is  with  your  consent,  your  boy's  name  shall  be 
changed  to  Lawrence,  and  when  he  becomes  of  age,  but 
not  before,  he  shall  be  told  that  he  is  really  our  grand 
child.' 

"  Mr.  Lyons  ceased  talking,  and  cried  like  a  child. 
Dear  parents,  he  appears  so  different  from  anything  I 
have  observed  in  the  family  before,  that  my  heart  was 
greatly  moved  for  him.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  did  right, 
but  in  my  sorrow  at  his  grief,  and  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment,  I  put  my  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him 
as  I  wrould  my  own  dear  father,  then  broke  into  sobs 
myself,  and  there  we  sat  and  talked  till  9  o'clock,  when 
he  left.  I  promised  to  submit  all  his  plans  to  you,  and  let 
him  know  your  decision.  Dear  father,  come  and  see  me 
if  you  are  able,  and  tell  me  what  to  do.  I  am  bewildered 
with  it  all  and  hardly  know  my  duty  in  the  matter. 

"  Your  own  loving 

"  MARION." 


312  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE    MAN    OF   THE    HOUR. 

"  WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  February  5,  1860. 
"  MY  DEAR  ALDRICII  : — 

"  I  write  to  you  of  an  important  lecture  which  is  to 
be  delivered  in  New  York  on  the  evening  of  the  27th 
of  this  month,  by  Abraham  Lincoln.  It  is  to  be  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Young  Men's  Republican  Union  of  the 
above  city,  and  is  one  of  a  course  of  political  lectures,  but 
this  will  probably  be  the  lecture  of  them  all.  It  will  be 
in  Cooper  Institute  and  attended  by  many  of  the  promi 
nent  men  of  the  country.  I  wish  to  meet  you  there  with 
such  of  your  Abolitionist  friends  and  others  from  Glen- 
town  as  you  can  induce  to  be  present.  Mr.  Lincoln  is 
mentioned  in  Washington  by  the  friends  of  liberty,  as 
possibly  the  man  who  may  carry  our  cause  to  a  successful 
issue,  though  he  is  not  exactly  an  Abolitionist,  but  as  you 
know,  a  Republican.  Yet  there  appear  to  be  those  con 
victions  with  reference  to  the  cause  of  right,  justice,  and 
liberty  in  his  heart,  which  give  us  great  hope  that  he  will 
be  instrumental  in  helping  on  the  movement  of  freedom. 

"  I  think  I  detect  a  little  spirit  of  jealousy  from  our 
leaders  here,  Chase,  Seward,  and  Sumner,  with  others, 
whenever  his  name  is  mentioned,  but  my  own  idea  is  that 
Lincoln  may  be  a  compromise  candidate  to  lead  our  hosts 
to  victory  in  the  Presidential  campaign  next  fall.  At  all 
events,  I  wish  you  to  hear  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  success  in  the  legislature. 

"  Wilson  sends  kind  regards.  If  you  can  induce  Clif 
ford  to  come,  by  a  note  to  him  at  Brown,  the  novelty  of 
the  matter  may  attract  him,  and  he  may  get  a  new 
purpose  concerning  our  cause. 

"  I  hear  that  Mrs.  Fuller  and  her  son  have  gone  to 
the  home  of  Cousin  Lyons,  and  that  his  wife,  under  their 


The  Man  of  the   Hour.  313 

companionship  and  care,  is  gradually  gaining  health,  for 
which  I  am  devoutly  thankful.     Lyons  is  sadly  broken ; 
he  was  formerly  a  proud,  domineering  man,  but  his  ter 
rible  afflictions  have  completely  changed  him. 
"  As  ever,  yours  in  the  cause  of  liberty, 

"  FRANK  NOBLE." 

Willard  Aldrich  read  the  note  to  Margaret. 

"  You  must  go,  Willard." 

"I  believe  I  will." 

"  Write  to  Clifford ;  go  by  the  way  of  Providence  and 
have  him  join  you  there." 

"  An  excellent  plan,  my  Margaret.  Who  else  do  you 
suppose  would  go  from  here  ?  " 

"  Pat  Quinn  would  be  delighted,  and  Pat,  in  his  way, 
is  a  great  Abolitionist." 

"  Of  course  Pat  must  go  to  keep  up  our  spirits." 

'  There  is  Jerome  Goddard,  gradually  coming  over  to 
the  good  cause,  with  plenty  of  means.  Get  him." 

"  Yes,  Goddard  must  go." 

Willard  wrote  to  Clifford,  and  the  young  man  received 
a  letter  from  his  father  at  about  the  same  time.  He  had 
never  been  to  New  York  and  at  once  decided  to  go, 
though  the  cause  in  which  his  father  and  Aldrich  had 
so  much  interest,  made  no  appeal  to  him. 

GLENTOWN,  MASS.,  Feb.  15,  1860. 
"  MY  DEAR  RACHEL  : — 

"Your  father  is  going  to  New  York  February  26,  to 
hear  Abraham  Lincoln  lecture.  Clifford  is  to  join  him  at 
Providence.  Pat  Quinn  and  Mr.  Jerome  Goddard  of  this 
town  are  to  be  of  the  party.  They  pass  through  Seaview 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  train  will  stop  for  a  brief  time, 
and  you  can  meet  them  and  speak  with  them  at  the 
station. 

"  We  are  all  nicely  and  hope  you  are  well.  We  so 
enjoyed  your  Christmas  vacation  with  us,  and  the  boys 
are  longing  for  your  next  vacation.  It's  a  lonesome 
house  without  our  Posy  girl.  God  bless  you.  We  all 
send  love,  Your  mother, 

"  MARGARET  ALDRICIJ," 


314  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  SEAVIEW,  Feb.  17,  1860. 
"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER  : — 

"  Your  brief  letter  received.  My  chum  Edith  Snow 
lives  in  New  York,  and  when  I  read  her  your  letter,  she 
invited  me  to  go  home  with  her  and  attend  the  lecture, 
with  others.  It's  to  be  a  lecture  where  ladies  attend. 
Her  father  is  a  member  of  the  Republican  Union,  and 
has  written  her  about  the  matter.  We  are  both  very 
anxious  to  go,  if  the  Principal  and  Preceptress  will  let  us. 

"  Young  Mr.  Fuller  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you  at  Christ 
mas,  told  me  to-day  that  himself  and  father,  and  some 
of  their  friends  from  Wilksville  and  Ashton  are  also 
going  on  that  very  train.  Do  say  that  I  may  go,  mother 
dear,  and  grant  me  great  pleasure.  I  am  so  interested  in 
Mr.  Lincoln.  Mr.  Fuller  (the  young  man,  I  mean)  says 
he  thinks  Lincoln  will  be  the  next  President. 

"  My  dearest  love  to  you  all, 

"  Your  affectionate  daughter, 

"  RACHEL." 


The  Principal  was  going  to  the  lecture  himself,  and 
granted  the  request  of  the  two  young  ladies  and  Samuel 
for  leave  of  absence. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  party  of  our  friends  in 
whom  we  have  come  to  be  interested,  were  on  that 
afternoon  train,  February  26,  which  passed  through  Sea- 
view,  Ashton  and  Wilksville,  and  a  great  time  they  had. 

"  Och,  be  gorry,"  spoke  up  Pat,  after  introductions 
were  over,  "  it's  a  loive  party  yer  having,  Mister  Aldrich. 
I  never  seed  the  likes  o'  this  fer  a  loing  time ;  it  minds 
me,  be  jabers,  o'  ther  toime  when  Windle  Phillips,  (iod 
bless  'im,  cum  ter  Glentown.  and  did  na'  that  spalpeen 
Pete  Nichols,  who  murthered  Black  Joe  (God  save  his 
sowl)  ketch  it  from  the  Ab'lition  orator.  Holy  Yargin, 
go  wid  us  in  the  stamer,  and  kape  her  from  sinkin',  yer 
honors,"  and  Pat  having  delivered  himself,  amidst  the 
general  laughter,  particularly  of  the  young  people,  settled 
back  in  his  seat  to  enjoy  his  ride  in  the  cars. 

"  P>y  gum,  Jim,  you're  here,  are  you?  Glad  to  see  you, 
old  man.  My !  how  well  you're  looking,  and  a  fine  crowd 


The  Man  of  the  Hour.  315 

you've  got  here,"  and  Tom  Smith  grasped  James'  hand 
as  he  leaped  on  the  train  with  Jimmie  boy,  bound  for  the 
great  city. 

James  Fuller  felt  as  if  an  iron  vice  had  got  hold  of  him, 
and  Joe  Slocum  beamed  down  upon  him,  looking  like  a 
country  squire  of  olden  days. 

"  Joe,  how  are  you  ?  "  sung  out  Tom  loud  enough  for 
all  in  the  car  to  hear.  "  Sue  sent  her  love  to  you,  and  to 
you  also,  Jim.  I  swore  I  wouldn't  give  it  to  you,  Jim 
Fuller ;  you  don't  deserve  it,"  and  Tom  gave  James  a 
look  which  made  Fuller  laugh  like  a  schoolboy. 

"How's  the  Judge,  Joe?''  inquired  James. 

"  Feeble,"  replied  Joe ;  "  wanted  to  come  dreadfully ; 
says  Lincoln  is  the  coming  man.  The  Republicans  are 
going  to  win,  he  thinks,  in  the  next  contest.  He  wishes 
they  were  a  little  stiffer  Abolitionists,  but  is  optimistic 
that  they  will  be  all  right  in  the  end." 

Mr.  Aldrich  and  Mr.  Fuller  took  the  same  seat. 
Rachel  and  Edith  were  just  in  front  of  them.  Samuel 
and  Jim  Smith  had  a  great  time  together.  Clifford 
wanted  much  to  sit  with  Rachel,  but  as  yet  had  not  had 
an  opportunity.  He  chatted  with  Mr.  Goddard  from 
Glentown  with  whom  he  was  well  acquainted,  and  who 
had  a  son  that  would  enter  Brown  next  year. 

Tom  Smith  and  Joe  Slocum  kept  close  to  James  and 
Pat  Quinn  made  the  amusement  for  the  party. 

When  they  boarded  the  steamer  at  Stonington,  Pat 
put  up  a  little  prayer  to  the  "  Holy  Vargin."  "  I  did  it, 
boys,  when  I  cum  over  long  years  agone,  an'  yer  see  I'm 
all  right  ter  day,"  he  explained  to  the  company. 

"  By  gum,  Jim,  haven't  you  got  over  being  an  Aboli 
tionist  yet?  "  called  out  Tom. 

"  Not  much,  Tom.  You've  turned  one,  I  perceive," 
continued  James. 

"  Not  by  a  long  shot,"  said  that  worthy ;  "  I'm  a  Re 
publican  but  not  an  Abolitionist." 

"  All  right,  my  boy,  you'll  be  in  at  the  great  coronation 
day,  nevertheless." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,  Jim  Fuller." 

Some  of  the  party  had  never  been  on  a  large  steamer 
before  and  enjoyed  the  novel  sensation. 


316  Love  and  Liberty. 

Rachel  and  Edith  clung'  together,  and  neither  Samuel 
nor  Clifford  had  an  opportunity  to  talk  with  Rachel  pri 
vately. 

Willard,  who  had  not  seen  her  for  nearly  two  months, 
monopolized  her  part  of  the  time,  telling  her  all  about 
home  matters. 

The  night  was  spent  on  the  steamer,  and  early  the  fol 
lowing  morning  they  came  into  the  great  metropolis. 
Word  had  been  sent  to  Frank  Noble  when  they  would 
reach  Xew  York,  and  he  met  them  at  the  pier. 

"  Good  morning,  father.  Glad  to  see  you,"  cried  Clif 
ford,  as  he  saw  his  father  standing  ready  to  welcome 
them. 

"  Good  morning,  my  son,"  said  Xoble. 

"  Rachel,  this  is  a  surprise.  Why,  Goddard,  I  am  de 
lighted  to  see  you,  and,  Pat,  how  are  you,  man  ?  " 

"  Fust  class,  be  jabers,  Mister  Xoble,  and  no  mees- 
take,"  sung  out  Pat. 

Then  Miss  Snow,  James,  Samuel  and  their  friends, 
with  the  Principal  of  the  boarding-school,  were  intro 
duced. 

"  Right  glad  to  meet,  you,"  said  Xoble.  "  And  now, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  Henry  Wilson  is  with  me  at  the 
hotel,  and  it's  distinctly  understood  that  you  all  are  to 
come  right  there  for  breakfast.  Tables  have  been  re 
served."  The  Principal  tried  to  excuse  himself,  but  as 
he  must  go  somewhere,  and  Xoble  insisted,  they  sprang 
into  cabs  and  were  driven  to  the  hotel. 

Clifford,  Samuel,  Rachel  and  Edith  had  a  table  by 
themselves.  It  came  about  without  any  particular  plan 
ning,  so  far  as  they  could  see,  and  Jimmie  Smith  was 
actually  invited  to  be  seated  with  them,  but  the  bashful 
country  boy  of  seventeen  preferred  to  sit  by  his  father 
instead  of  near  such  fine  ladies  as  Rachel  and  her  chum. 

Then  followed  some  happy  moments  for  our  young 
friends,  tinged  somewhat  with  jealousy  on  the  part  of 
both  Samuel  and  Clifford ;  for  each  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  other  was  greatly  interested  in  Miss 
Rachel.  Clifford  bit  his  lip  till  the  blood  started,  when 
he  found  that  Samuel  was  opposite  Rachel,  and  Edith 
Snow  was  his  special  care ;  but  then  it  made  no  particular 


The  Man  of  the  Hour.  317 

difference,  and  both  girls  were  as  merry  as  larks.  Edith 
invited  both  the  young  men  to  call  at  her  home,  and  was 
so  interesting  and  fascinating  with  Clifford,  that  he  felt 
a  little  mollified  that  Samuel  should  make  "one  of  that 
little  party. 

"  She's  no  beauty,"  said  Clifford  to  himself,  "  but  I 
declare  she's  cultivated  and  extremely  well  bred,"  and  so 
she  was. 

There  was  a  great  contrast  between  the  two  young 
ladies,  but  no  greater  than  between  the  two  young  men. 
Clifford  was  taller  than  Samuel,  and  three  years  his  se 
nior.  He  sported  quite  a  heavy  mustache,  and  with  the 
dignity  of  a  college  senior,  was  inclined  to  be  rather  pat 
ronizing  to  Mr.  Samuel,  who  was  only  a  junior  at  an 
Academy.  The  college  and  city  had  polished  Clifford 
greatly,  and,  like  all  men  of  his  class,  he  regarded  him 
self  with  considerable  good-will  and  as  of  much  im 
portance. 

Samuel,  keen  and  shrewd,  took  the  matter  all  in,  and 
by  occasional  remarks,  and  queer  intonatipns,  awakened 
a  little  the  mirthful  propensities  of  the  young  ladies. 
Clifford,  however,  did  not  appear  to  observe  anything  out 
of  the  way. 

And  Samuel !  Rachel  looked  at  him,  comparing  him 
with  Clifford.  This  young  man  was  beardless,  and  had 
no  mustache.  He  was  not  particularly  dignified ;  there 
was  something  of  the  rustic  yet  clinging  to  him,  but  his 
beauty,  no  one  could  deny.  Just  above  the  medium 
height,  his  dark  curly  locks  often  defying  brush  and 
comb,  teeth  of  ivory  whiteness  and  blue  eyes  that  fairly 
dazzled  her  with  intensity,  and  shone  into  her  very  soul, 
even  as  she  watched  him  that  February  morning.  He 
was  only  a  year  older  than  herself.  He  was  no  man  of 
the  world  ;  he  had  not  been  to  college  ;  he  probably  never 
would  go,  "  and  yet — and  yet," — Rachel  kept  thinking, 
"  I— I  like  him." 

O,  Rachel,  you  little  know  the  future ;  you  cannot 
unroll  the  leaves  of  God's  calendar,  but  if  you  did  know, 
would  your  thoughts  take  any  different  turn  from  what 
they  take  to-day?  If  you  knew  that  your  heart  would 
be  torn  by  the  tempest  which  is  coming,  and  that  your 


318  Love  and  Liberty. 

spirit,  tossed  on  the  restless,  surging  sea  of  God's  great 
deep,  would  cry  and  seek  in  vain  to  escape  the  shock  of 
wind  and  wave,  would  you  be  different  from  what  you 
are  to-day?  Would  the  dark  eyes  and  straight  hair  of 
your  whilom  playmate,  with  his  conscious  dignity  and 
strength,  attract  you.  or  would  the  blue-eyed  young  man 
whose  emotional  soul  gleams  out  in  rapture  toward  your 
lovely  self  this  winter  day,  be  your  ideal  of  a  true  and 
noble  manhood? 

Let  the  reader  remember  the  Puritan  mother-heart  of 
Margaret  and  then  ask  himself  if  the  daughter  of  such 
a  woman  would  shrink  from  even  the  torture  of  the 
rack,  if  duty  lay  that  way. 

Then  remember,  that,  engraved  upon  the  records  of 
the  Pilgrim  colony  at  Plymouth,  was  the  name  of  Samuel 
Fuller,  which  later  should  be  chiseled  in  the  solid  granite 
shaft,  overlooking  the  beautiful  bay,  with  the  statue  of 
Liberty  ever  pointing  to  the  skies ;  and  what  do  you  think 
would  be  the  outcome  of  such  ancestry  ? 


Henry  Wilson  and  James  Fuller  at  their  table  were  in 
earnest  conversation.  Wilson  told  James  of  that  sad  day 
when  he  raised  the  bleeding  form,  of  Sumner  from  the 
floor  and  swore  eternal  hatred  to  the  system  of  slavery, 
and  Willard  Aldrich  gazed  into  the  earnest  faces  of 
those  two  men  so  unlike,  and  yet  mutually  interested  with 
himself  and  Xoble,  in  one  great  cause. 

After  breakfast,  the  party  were  driven  about  the  city, 
to  the  most  important  places  of  interest,  and  what 
charmed  Rachel  most  was  the  Governor's  room  in  City 
Hall. 

After  an  elaborate  lunch  provided  by  Xoble,  the  girls 
went  to  Edith's  home,  and  the  men  stro'led  further  about 
the  city,  sailing  across  to  Brooklyn,  and  wandering  a 
while  in  that  beautiful  city  of  the  dead,  Greenwood 
Cemetery. 

They  all  met  in  good  season  at  Cooper  Institute,  where 
they  were  introduced  to  Edith's  father,  one  of  the  Com 
mittee  who  had  engaged  the  Illinois  statesman  to  give  the 
address  of  the  hour,  and  were  given  good  seats.  The 


The  Man  of  the  Hour.  319 

great  house  was  well  filled,  and  Lincoln  stood  before  an 
audience  very  different  from  what  he  had  expected.  It 
represented  the  culture  of  the  nation. 

William  Cullen  Brvant  presided  at  the  meeting.  David 
Dudley  Field  escorted  the  speaker  to  the  platform.  Ex- 
Governor  King,  Horace  Greeley,  James  W.  Nye,  Cephas 
Brainerd,  Charles  C.  Nott,  Hiram  Barney,  with  Wilson, 
Snow  and  Noble,  sat  among  the  invited  guests. 

There  had  never  been  a  gathering  since  the  days  of 
Clay  and  Webster  which  represented  so  large  an  assem 
blage  of  the  intellect  and  mental  culture  of  the  city  and 
nation  as  gathered  there  that  night. 

Lincoln's  name  for  two  years  had  been  in  the  papers, 
and  both  friendly  and  hostile  comment  had  coupled  it 
with  the  two  ranking  political  leaders  in  the  Northern 
states, — Seward  and  Douglass.  The  representative  men 
of  New  York  and  vicinity  were  naturally  anxious  to  see 
one,  who,  whatever  his  ability  or  eloquence  might  be, 
had  attracted  so  much  of  the  public  attention.  Lincoln 
himself  was  curious  also  to  test  his  words  on  the  critical, 
cultured  audience,  so  different  from  those  he  had  ad 
dressed  in  western  towns. 

The  mutual  interest  became  strength  to  Lincoln.  The 
audience  paid  the  closest  attention  to  the  tall,  homely, 
ungainly  Westerner. 

On  his  part,  he  proceeded  with  deliberation  and  em 
phasis,  developed  his  argument  with  great  precision 
and  unity,  and  probably  reached  the  happiest  general 
effect  which  he  ever  attained  in  any  one  of  his  long 
addresses. 

Taking  for  a  text  a  phrase  of  Senator  Douglass  in 
the  recent  Ohio  campaign,  that  "  Our  fathers,  when  they 
framed  the  government,  understood  this  question  as  well, 
and  even  better  than  we  do  now,"  Lincoln  defined  "  this 
question  "  in  the  following  words : 

"  Does  the  proper  division  of  local  from  Federal  au 
thority,  or  anything  in  the  Constitution,  forbid  our  gov 
ernment  to  control  as  to  slavery  in  our  Federal  territo 
ries  ?  Upon  this,  Senator  Douglass  holds  the  affirmative, 
and  the  Republicans  the  negative.  This  affirmation  and 
denial  form  an  issue,  and  this  issue — the  question — is 


32O  Love  and  Liberty. 

precisely  what  the  text  declares  our  fathers  understood 
'  better  than  \ve.' ' 

He  then  in  a  convincing  manner  traced  the  historical 
analysis,  the  action  of  "  our  fathers  "  in  framing  "  the 
government  tinder  which  we  live,"  by  their  votes  and 
declarations  in  the  Congresses  which  preceded  the  Con 
stitution,  and  in  the  Congresses  following  which  proposed 
its  twelve  amendments,  and  enacted  various  territorial 
prohibitions. 

The  audience  was  somewhat  disappointed  in  the  char 
acter  of  the  speaker.  There  were  no  "  rhetorical  fire 
works  "  of  a  western  stump-speaker.  Lincoln  did  not 
introduce  an  anecdote  or  attempt  a  witticism  in  the  whole 
lecture.  The  first  half  had  scarcely  an  illustrative  figure 
or  poetical  fancy.  He  was  the  historian,  quietly  search 
ing  for  the  truth.  He  was  the  statesman  with  terse,  com 
pact  reasoning  concerning  a  principle  of  legislation,  such 
as  an  advocate  would  employ  before  a  court.  Yet  his 
words  were  apt,  his  sentences  delivered  easily,  with  great 
precision,  his  propositions  full  of  simple  strength  and 
conspicuously  fair  to  the  other  side.  The  force  of  his 
conclusions  drew  his  audience  after  him ;  they  followed 
him  with  interest  and  delight.  Having  gained  the  sym 
pathy  of  his  audience,  Lincoln  then  showed  how  unjustly 
the  South  charged  the  Republican  party  with  sectional 
ism,  radicalism  and  revolutionary  purpose.  The  illustra 
tion  follows  with  which  he  closed  this  section  of  his 
speech : 

"  But  you  will  not  abide  the  election  of  a  Republican 
President !  In  that  supposed  event  you  say,  the  great 
crime  of  having  destroyed  it  will  be  upon  us !  That  is 
cool.  A  highwayman  holds  a  pistol  to  my  ear  and  mut 
ters  through  his  teeth,  '  Stand  and  deliver,  or  I  shall  kill 
you,  and  then  you  will  be  a  murderer !  '  To  be  sure  what 
the  robber  demands  of  me — my  money — was  my  own  ; 
and  I  had  a  clear  right  to  keep  it ;  but  it  was  no  more 
my  own  than  my  vote  is  my  own  ;  and  the  threat  of  death 
to  me  to  extort  my  money,  and  the  threat  of  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  Union  to  extort  my  vote,  can  scarcely  be 
disinguished  in  principle." 

The  most  impressive  and  valuable  part  of  the  address 


The  Man  of  the  Hour.  321 

was  the  closing  section,  where  he  showed  in  earnest 
language,  that  the  real  underlying  conflict  was  in  the 
difference  of  moral  conviction  between  the  sections 
concerning  the  inherent  right  or  wrong  of  slavery,  in  view 
of  which  he  defined  the  proper  duty  of  the  free  states. 

"  Nor  can  we  justifiably  withhold  this  on  any  ground, 
save  our  conviction  that  slavery  is  wrong.  If  slavery 
is  right,  all  words,  acts,  laws  and  constitutions  against  it 
are  themselves  wrong,  and  should  be  silenced  and  swept 
away.  If  it  is  right,  we  cannot  justly  object  to  its 
nationality — its  universality !  If  it  is  wrong,  they  cannot 
justly  insist  upon  its  extension — its  enlargement.  All 
they  ask  we  could  readily  grant,  if  we  thought  slavery 
right ;  all  we  ask,  they  could  as  readily  grant  if  they 
thought  it  wrong.  Their  thinking  it  right  and  our 
thinking  it  wrong,  is  the  precise  fact  upon  which  depends 
the  whole  controversy.  Thinking  it  right  as  they  do, 
they  are  not  to  blame  for  desiring  its  full  recognition,  as 
being  right ;  but  thinking  it  wrong  as  we  do,  can  we  yield 
to  them?  Can  we  cast  our  votes  with  their  view  and 
against  our  own?  In  view  of  our  moral,  social  and 
political  responsibilities,  can  we  do  this?  Wrong  as  we 
think  slavery  is,  we  can  yet  afford. to  let  it  alone  where 
it  is,  because  that  much  is  due  to  the  necessity  arising 
from  its  actual  presence  in  the  nation ;  but  can  we,  while 
our  votes  will  prevent  it,  allow  it  to  spread  into  the 
national  Territories,  and  to  overrun  us  here  in  the  free 
States?  If  our  sense  of  duty  forbids  this,  then  let  us 
stand  by  our  duty  fearlessly  and  effectively.  Let  us  be 
diverted  by  none  of  those  sophistical  contrivances  where 
with  we  are  so  industriously  piled  and  belabored,  con 
trivances  such  as  groping  for  some  middle  ground 
between  the  right  and  the  wrong,  vain  as  the  search  for 
a  man  who  should  be  neither  a  living  man  nor  a  dead 
man,  such  as  a  policy  of  '  don't  care,'  on  a  question  about 
which  all  true  men  do  care,  such  as  Union  appeals  be 
seeching  true  Union  men  to  yield  to  Disunionists ;  revers 
ing  the  divine  rule,  and  calling,  not  the  sinners,  but  the 
righteous  to  repentance ;  such  as  invocations  to  Wash 
ington,  imploring  men  to  unsay  what  Washington  said, 
and  undo  what  Washington  did. 

21 


322  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Neither  let  us  be  slandered  from  our  duty  by  false  ac 
cusations  against  us,  nor  frightened  from  it  by  menaces 
of  destruction  to  the  Government  nor  of  dungeons  to 
ourselves.  Let  us  have  faith  that  right  makes  might,  and 
in  that  faith,  let  us,  to  the  end,  dare  to  do  our  duty  as  we 
understand  it." 

During  the  address,  there  were  smiles  and  laughter 
as  Lincoln  made  his  telling  points,  and  frequent  outbursts 
of  applause  showed  that  his  hearers  received  his  argu 
ments  as  conclusive :. 

Our  friends  from  Glentown  and  other  places,  who 
went  to  hear  this  address,  were  variously  affected. 

Aldrich  and  James  said  mentally,  "  He  doesn't  go  far 
enough ;  how  can  we  let  slavery  alone  where  it  is  ?  " 

Clifford  thought,  "  He's  a  strong  speaker,  but  to  say 
that  slavery  is  wrong,  is  absurd." 

Rachel,  with  her  mother's  temperament,  sat  spell 
bound.  The  lecture  was  so  simple,  so  grand,  so  evidently 
true  to  the  speaker's  convictions.  So  well  delivered,  the 
great  audience  hanging  breathlessly  on  his  every  word, 
it  stirred  her  soul.  She  knew  he  was  not  eloquent  as 
Phillips  was  eloquent,  but  it  was  massive  oratory,  "  and 
I  believe,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that  his  ideas  will  be 
put  into  practise,  and  will  be  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

Wilson,  Noble  and  Snow  were  enthusiastic.  "  We 
will  win  on  that  line,"  cried  Noble.  "  No  further  exten 
sion  of  slavery  in  the  United  States  must  be  our  rallying 
cry,  this  time,  then  the  end  will  soon  come." 

"  By  gum,"  said  Tom,  as  they  were  dismissed, 
"  there's  the  man  for  you.  A  straight  Republican  am  f." 

"  Saints  presarve  us,"  sang  out  Pat,  "  he  comes  nigh 
on  to  Windle  Phillips,  begorry ;  it's  a  grate  trate  I've  got 
for  cummin'  to  Nu  Yark ;  T  wish  me  Tim  was  'ere,  God 
bless  'im,  Lincoln  forever,  hooray !  " 

"  Hush,"  said  Aldrich  to  Pat,  "  they'll  put  you  out," 
and  Pat  subsided. 

But  Samuel  was  most  strangely  affected.  "  It's  the 
truth,"  he  thought.  "  Our  hope  is  in  no  further  extension 
of  slavery.  God  will  help  up  win  the  battle !  Mother," 
he  cried  in  a  startled  voice,  "  it  seems  as  if  you  were 
with  me  to-night." 


The  Man  of  the  Hour.  323 

"  My  boy,  my  boy,"  cried  James,  "  she  is  here  by  her 
spirit." 

And  now  lliey  throng  into  the  ante-room  to  take  the 
orator's  hand,  and  all  of  our  friends  will  take  his  hand  if 
they  do  not  sleep  that  night. 

It  came  to  pass  as  the  crowd  surged  about  them, 
that  Samuel  and  Rachel  came  side  by  side,  and  as  Lincoln 
took  their  hands  in  his  hard  palms,vhe  gazed  a  moment 
into  the  beautiful  upturned  youthful  faces,  and  with  that 
presentiment  which  was  characteristic  of  the  great  Com 
moner,  he  said :  "  Young  friends,  I  shall  see  you  again ; 
my  blessing  be  on  you  both." 

Samuel  offered  Rachel  his  arm,  which  she  accepted. 
When  they  reached  the  street,  and  he  escorted  her  to 
Edith's  home,  in  spite  of  Clifford,  who  made  a  des 
perate,  but  futile  effort  to  reach  her,  it  seemed  to  him 
as  if  he  trod  on  air  and  angels'  voices  were  calling  him  to 
a  life  of  consecrated  service  in  the  cause  of  freedom. 

When  he  bade  Rachel  good  night  at  her  friend's  door, 
he  placed  two  kisses  on  those  rosy  cheeks,  and  Rachel 
never  spoke  a  word  of  dissent. 

That  night,  Samuel  dreamed  a  dream.  It  seemed  as  if 
he  lay  amidst  the  dreadful  horrors  of  a  battle-field,  and 
saw  the  stars  shining  calmly  down,  while  his  body  was 
broken  with  terrible  pain.  As  he  lay  there  suffering  such 
great  agony,  there  came  a  voice,  gentle  and  loving,  which 
said  to  him :  "  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee," 
but  whether  it  was  the  voice  of  his  mother  or  Rachel's 
voice,  he  could  not  surely  tell ;  and  wncn  he  awoke,  be 
hold  it  was  all  a  dream. 


The  next  morning,  the  New  York  dailies  printed  the 
speech  in  full,  and  made  adverse  or  favorable  comments 
on  the  same,  according  to  the  editorial  sentiment  of  the 
paper. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  is  one  of  nature's  orators,"  said  the 
Tribune,  "  using  his  rare  powers  solely  to  elucidate  and 
convince,  though  their  inevitable  effect  is  to  delight  and 
electrify  as  well.  We  present,  herewith,  a  very  full  and 
accurate  report  of  this  speech ;  yet  the  tones,  the  ges- 


324  Love  and  Liberty. 

tures,  the  kindling  eye  and  the  mirth-provoking  look- 
defy  the  reporter's  skill.  The  vast  assemblage  frequently 
rang  with  cheers  and  shouts  of  applause,  which  were 
prolonged  and  intensified  at  the  close.  No  man  ever 
before  made  such  an  impression  on  his  first  appeal  to  a 
New  York  audience." 


Shadow  and  Sunshine.  325 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

SHADOW    AND    SUNSHINE. 

WHEN  they  finished  reading1  Marion's  letter  in  Jesse 
Fuller's  home,  which  described  her  experiences  in  Glen- 
town,  Horace  spoke. 

"  Father,  I  am  the  one  to  go  to  Marion,  carry  your 
words  of  advice  and  assist  her  with  whatever  means  are 
within  our  power." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jesse,  "  I  cannot  take  that  long 
journey  at  this  time  of  year ;  you  will  be  able  to  advise 
and  aid  her  more  than  I." 

So  it  was  settled.  Horace  would  hardly  dare  remain 
more  than  another  day  at  home,  unless  he  wished  to  be 
arrested,  which  he  was  not  yet  prepared  to  submit  to, 
having  no  wish  to  be  detained  from  an  active  life. 

"  I  am  innocent,  my  parents,  before  God.  You  cer 
tainly  believe  me,  but  at  present,  I  would  have  difficulty 
in  proving  it." 

"  We  believe  you,  my  son.  If  we  could  only  find  Bill 
Jenks,  the  case  would  doubtless  be  cleared  up,"  was  the 
answer. 

But  no  one  knew  where  Bill  had  gone. 

The  next  day,  Horace  bade  good-by  to  his  family. 
It  was  a  sad  parting. 

"  No  one  knows  when  we'll  meet  again,"  said  Jesse. 
"  We  have  fallen  upon  perilous  times ;  I'm  getting  on  in 
years ;  Horace,  you  are  under  suspicion,  but  God  will 
not  forsake  you,  neither  will  He  forsake  us  here." 

"  Horace,"  said  Ada,  putting  her  soft  arms  around 
his  neck,  "  you  don't  forget  to  pray?  " 

"  Never,  my  sister,  my  Bible  is  read  and  my  prayers 


326  Love  and  Liberty. 

are  offered  every  day.  My  life  is  consecrated  to  the 
cause  of  liberty  which  can  only  succeed  with  God's  help." 

Then  Horace  kissed  his  mother,  whose  tears  fell  upon 
his  strong,  manly  face. 

"  Good-by,  mother,  keep  up  good  heart ;  things  will 
brighten  after  a  little ;  my  innocence  will  be  proven,  and 
even  now,  there  is  something  to  cheer  us  when  we  think 
of  Marion." 

"  Good-by,  Horace ;  Heaven  bless  and  keep  you,"  an 
swered  his  mother  through  her  blinding  tears. 

Gerald  drove  him  into  Westport,  leaving  him  at  the 
edge  of  the  village.  As  Horace  entered  the  stage,  he 
saw  no  one  whom  he  knew,  or  who  appeared  to  recognize 
him,  and  away  he  went  to  Marion. 

That  night,  the  sheriff  called  at  Jesse's  home.  "  T 
understand  Horace  is  here,"  said  he  to  Jesse,  "  and 
though  of  course  I  don't  believe  him  guilty,  it  will  be  my 
duty  to  arrest  him." 

"  Horace  has  been  here  but  gone  again,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  I  must  follow  him."    But  the  sheriff  didn't  find  him. 

Horace  found  Marion's  rooms,  and  one  evening  rapped 
at  the  door. 

Marion  opened  the  door,  and  there  stood  her  brother. 

"  Marion,  don't  you  know  me?"  he  said  as  she  gazed 
in  a  bewildered  way  upon  him. 

"Horace!"  she  exclaimed,  and  fell  upon  his  neck, 
kissing  him  again  and  again.  "  It's  too  good  to  be  true," 
she  said.  "  My  brother,  I  cannot  express  my  joy  ;  I'm  jo 
glad  you  have  come." 

There  they  sat,  late  into  the  'night,  discussing  the 
future,  Horace  telling  her  that  his  parents  thought  it  well, 
if  she  was  willing,  to  agree  to  Mr.  Lyons'  plans;  that  the 
restitution  he  had  made  regarding  the  former  slaves,  and 
the  fact  that  much  of  his  money  had  not  come  from 
slavery,  would  exonerate  them  from  all  blame  in  re 
ceiving  his  benefactions. 

"  How  can  I  part  with  Ray?"  said  Marion. 

"  Will  it  be  necessary?  "  asked  Horace.  "  Why  not  for 
the  present,  at  least,  especially  as  you  are  so  good  a  nurse, 
go  to  Lyons'  home  with  Ray,  and  do  what  you  can  to 


Shadow  and  Sunshine.  327 

restore  Mrs.  Lyons  to  health?  If  she  recovers,  and  you 
wish  to  go  back  to  Westport,  or  elsewhere,  you  can 
do  so." 

"  But  to  think  of  changing  Ray's  name  to  Lawrence," 
said  Marion.  "Can  I  ever  bear  it?"  and  Marion 
shivered. 

"  It's  all  hard  on  you,  my  sister,  from  every  point 
of  view  except  the  financial,  and  even  that  has  its  draw 
backs,  but  for  your  boy  it  is  most  advantageous  as  you 
perceive ;  for  him  to  have  a  strong  legal  protector  at  his 
age  and  with  the  disadvantages  of  his  birth,  is  the  very 
best  thing  that  could  happen  to  him.  Then  there  is  the 
Christian  side  of  the  whole  affair,  by  which  you  put  aside 
your  own  feelings  to  benefit  Mrs.  Lyons.  That  surely 
appeals  to  your  heart." 

'*  Yes,  Horace,  I  have  thought  it  all  over  since  I 
wrote,  and  sometimes  have  decided  one  way,  and  then 
the  other  way.  The  advice  of  my  parents  and  yourself 
confirms  my  opinion,  that  for  Ray's  sake,  and  the  sake  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lyons,  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  do  as  Mr. 
Lyons  wishes.  He  has  been  here  twice  since  I  wrote, 
urging  me  to  come  there  and  hoped  I  would  consent  to 
the  change  of  name  for  my  boy,  as  his  wife  constantly 
calls  him  Lawrence." 

So  it  came  about  that  Lyons  legally  adopted  Ray,  and 
changed  his  name  to  Lawrence  Lyons.  Marion  con 
sented  to  take  charge  of  the  invalid  wife  for  a  while,  and 
gradually  the  poor,  bruised  body  and  shattered  mind 
yielded  to  nursing,  kindness  and  cheerfulness. 

The  months  went  by ;  Mrs.  Lyons  did  not  appear  to 
understand  who  Marion  was,  except  that  she  was  the 
kindest  and  most  skilful  of  nurses ;  but  young  Lawrence 
was  her  own  boy,  of  that  she  felt  sure,  and  Marion  told 
Lawrence  he  must  allow  the  poor,  broken  woman  to 
continue  in  her  belief.  As  for  the  boy  himself,  he  didn't 
relish  being  so  much  in  a  sick-room,  but  thought  it  a 
fine  thing  to  be  adopted  by  a  rich  man,  who  was  very 
kind  to  him.  But  poor  Marion  had  many  unhappy  hours 
when  all  aone.  Her  boy  was  all  she  had ;  she  loved  him 
as  her  own  soul,  but  she  was  almost  sure  he  would  be 
gradually  weaned  from  her  to  his  new  relations. 


328  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  My  Father,"  she  cried,  "  help  me  to  bear  it  all ;  only 
with  Thy  strength  shall  I  conquer  my  own  heart." 

The  first  interview  Horace  had  with  Lyons,  he  dis 
claimed  all  knowledge  concerning  the  death  of  his  son. 

"  I  have  never  thought  you  guilty  after  the  first  shock 
was  over,"  said  Mr.  Lyons.  "  I  am  sure  that  Bill  Jenks 
trapped  him  some  way,  and  possibly  at  first  only  thought 
of  robbery,  and  Lawrence  always  carried  considerable 
money  about  him ;  but  probably  in  the  scuffle,  killed  him 
to  save  himself.  It's  very  strange  the  authorities  couldn't 
find  Jenks." 

During  Horace's  visit  to  Glentown,  he  met  Florence 
Noble  several  times,  and  her  stately  ways  and  great 
beauty  attracted  him  strongly.  "  I  have  rarely  seen  such 
a  beautiful  face,"  he  observed  to  Marion.  "  My  own 
sister  alone  has  greater  beauty,  and  I  have  been  in  many 
places." 

"  O  Horace,"  said  the  blushing  Marion,  "  do  not  men 
tion  my  appearance.  Would  God  I  had  been  born  ill- 
looking,  then  I  might  have  escaped  the  misery  of  my 
life." 

"  Hush,  sister  mine.  God  makes  the  wrath  of  man  to 
praise  him,  and  out  of  our  severest  trials,  disciplines  our 
characters,  tempering  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb." 

And  now,  Horace,  having  done  all  he  could  for 
Marion,  must  go  to  his  work  in  Philadelphia,  and  yet  it 
came  very  hard  for  him  to  tear  himself  away  from  tlr.s 
sister,  perhaps  the  last  of  his  kin  that  he  would  see  for 
a  long  time.  However,  it  was  necessary,  and  bidding 
Marion  and  her  boy  a  fond  good-by,  he  departed  sadly 
for  the  Quaker  City. 


Clifford's  wrath  at  what  he  chose  to  call  Samuel's 
presumption  was  very  severe.  On  the  return  of  the  party 
from  Xew  York,  he  had  a  brief  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  Rachel  alone. 

"  Rachel,  are  you  to  throw  me  calmly  aside  for  a  coun 
try  upstart  like  this  boy?" 

"  Indeed,  Clifford,  have  I  not  treated  you  kindly  all 
the  time?  " 


Shadow  and  Sunshine.  329 

"  Why  did  you  allow  him  to  escort  you  to  Miss  Snow's 
home  when  I  was  present  ?  " 

"  Samuel  was  with  me  as  we  went  out,  and  asked  per 
mission.  You  were  with  Miss  Snow,  and  I  supposed 
would  care  for  her ;  how  could  I  do  differently  ?  " 

"  He's  nothing  but  a  greenhorn !  " 

"Why,  Clifford,  are  you  not  forgetting  yourself?" 
asked  Rachel.  "  Mr.  Fuller  is  certainly  a  gentleman  and 
you  should  not  speak  thus  unkindly  of  him,"  she  con 
tinued. 

"  Forgive  me,  Rachel,  but  you  know  I  love  you  so ;  I 
am  desperately  jealous  of  any  one  else." 

"  But,  Clifford,  while  I  have  the  greatest  regard  for 
you  in  a  certain  way,  I  have  never  encouraged  you  in 
\our  particular  attentions,  and  have  always  given  you  to 
understand  that  you  should  not  take  too  much  for 
granted." 

"  But,  Rachel,  dear,  it  isn't  possible  that  you  do  not 
mean  to  care  for  me,  your  playmate,  your  boy  lover, 
your  long-time  friend,  when  you  know  how  greatly  I 
love  you." 

"  I  cannot  tell  yet,  Clifford,  but  I  am  almost  sure  that 
you  ought  not  to  think  of  me  as  you  do,"  and  Rachel's 
beautiful  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  She  had  the  kindest 
heart  and  it  hurt  her  to  grieve  others. 

Clifford  could  obtain  nothing  more  decisive  from  her, 
and  left  her  at  Scaview  with  a  sad  heart.  She  dodged 
away  from  Samuel,  and  with  Edith  rode  up  to  the 
Academy. 

"  It's  that  college  chap  who  is  doing  the  mischief," 
said  Samuel  to  himself  in  wrath ;  "  I'd  like  to  have  a 
round  with  him,"  and  the  young  Apollo  doubled  up  his 
fists  as  he  walked  with  his  father  up  the  street,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  term,  Rachel  would  only  just  bow  to  him. 
He  could  get  no  chance  to  speak  with  her  alone. 

Edwards  thought  he  detected  a  different  spirit  in 
young  Fuller. 

"Jilted  you,  has  she,  Mr.  Fuller?"  he  called  in  his 
ear  one  day. 

"  Shut  up  your  mouth,"  snapped  Samuel. 

"  Shut  up  yourself,  you  blackguard,"  roared  Edwards. 


33°  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  next  moment,  the  burly  form  of  Edwards  lay 
sprawling  on  the  snow.  "  Call  me  a  blackguard  if  you 
think  best;  I'll  teach  you  to  mind  your  business;  I've 
stood  enough  of  your  contemptible  insinuations,"  and 
Samuel  struck  Edwards  again  and  again. 

The  fellow  fairly  bellowed  for  mercy,  and  at  last 
Samuel  left  him,  and  departed  for  his  father's  home. 

Edwards  never  did  understand  exactly  what  happened 
to  him  that  day.  He  thought  at  first  he  must  have  run 
against  some  iron-clad  projection,  but  later  decided  it 
must  have  been  Samuel's  fists ;  and  those  hands  of  Sam 
uel's  which  looked  so  delicate  and  white,  were  almost 
iron-clad,  when  his  temper  got  the  better  of  him. 

Edwards  shunned  him  after  that,  but  Samuel  sus 
pected  he  would  try  to  pay  him  up  in  some  way,  and 
he  had  it  right. 

Clifford's  and  Rachel's  spring  vacation  came  at  the 
same  time. 

They  missed  each  other  going  home,  but  Clifford  was 
soon  at  Rachel's  home,  determined  if  possible  to  settle 
favorably  the  matter  which  lay  so  near  to  his  heart. 

"  Rachel,  my  love,"  said  Clifford,  after  they  were  com 
fortably  seated  in  the  parlor,  "  I  trust  you  are  now  readv 
to  make  me  happy." 

.."/  make  you   happy?"   echoed  the   fair  young  lady, 
"  you  should  not  expect  such  a  thing  of  me.'' 

"  Rachel,  be  good  to  me;  one  more  term  and  I  shall 
graduate  from  college,  then  father  takes  me  into  part 
nership  in  his  business ;  a  year  later,  after  you  finish  at 
the  Academy,  promise  me,  Fairy,  that  you'll  be  my  own 
sweet  bride." 

"  O  Clifford,  you  will  have  to  undeceive  yourself,  I 
really  believe;  I  told  you  I  am  to  fit  myself  to  work  in 
the  cause  of  freedom  and  you  have  no  sympathy  with 
that  which  is  nearest  my  heart," 

''What  can  you  do  in  that  line?" 

"  I  am  not  sure  yet,  but  some  kind  of  work  will  surely 
come  to  me." 

"  Rachel,  don't  be  foolish,  you  are  not  fitted  for  any 
heroic  life.  Be  my  own  darling  wife,  I'll  do  everything 


Shadow  and  Sunshine.  ,331 

for  you ;  give  you  wealth,  position,  friends,  be  a.  good 
husband,  love  you  always.  Say  yes,  my  Fairy." 

"  You  are  very  condescending  to  offer  me  so    much." 

Clifford  saw  that  in  his  eagerness  to  show  what  he 
would  do  for  this  girl  whom  he  loved,  he  had  touched 
the  spring  of  pride  in  her  soul. 

"  I  don't  mean  it  that  way,"  he  hurriedly  answered, 
"  I  only  mean  that  all  which  mortal  man  could  do  for  a 
beloved  wife,  I  would  do  for  you." 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you,  Clifford ;  you  are  an  old  friend 
and  a  friend  of  our  family,  and  our  fathers  are  devotedly 
attached  to  each  other.  It  would  probably  be  agreeable 
to  them  to  have  things  as  you  desire,  but  no  woman  can 
give  herself  to  another  for  such  reasons.  I  must  answer 
to  my  own  conscience  in  this  matter.  There  are  many 
things  that  I  like  in  you.  We  have  known  .each  other  so 
long;  but  you  do  not  sympathize  with  my  love  for  lib 
erty,  and  you  assume  as  a  matter  of  course  that  I  should 
accept  you  as  a  husband ;  this  latter  I  do  not  like." 

"But,  Fairy— 

"  Wait,  hear  me  through.  I  had  not  given  the  matter 
serious  thought  till  last  fall,  when  we  went  away  on  the 
same  train  to  school.  I  did  not  feel  then  and  do  not  now 
that  I  love  you  in  any  such  way  as  a  wife  should  love 
her  husband,  or  possibly  could  so  love  you,  but  I  am 
willing  to  think  over  the  matter  further,  and  will  allow 
you  to  correspond  with  me  this  next  term,  and  in  the 
summer  vacation  give  you  my  final  answer." 

With  this,  Clifford  had  to  be  content ;  nothing  could 
move  Rachel  from  her  position  in  the  matter. 

"  I  will  win  her  with  my  letters,"  thought  Clifford, 
His  friends  knew  that  he  was  a  brilliant  writer,  and  he 
really  thought  the  matter  was  practically  settled. 


When  the  last  term  of  school  for  the  year  began  at  the 
Academy,  Samuel  was  somewhat  disappointed.  Rachel 
had  returned  and  greeted  him  kindly  enough,  but  kept 
him  at  a  distance;  she  refused  to  see  him  in  second  par 
lor,  and  declined  soon  after  to  accept  him  as  escort  on  an 
excursion. 


332  Love  and  Liberty. 

Edith  Snow,  who  thought  Rachel  had  fallen  in  love 
at  first  sight,  was  somewhat  perplexed  at  the  course  of 
affairs,  and  coquettishly  sought  to  interest  Samuel  a  little 
herself;  she  soon  discovered  the  only  reason  that  Samuel 
had  anything  to  do  with  her  was  to  have  a  chance  to 
talk  about,  and  inquire  for  Rachel,  and  at  length  gave  up 
in  despair. 


One  day  Judge  Washington  met  Samuel  on  the  street. 

"  They're  goin'  it  up  to  thet  haunted  house  in  great 
shape,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Samuel. 

"Mean?"  said  the  Judge.  "Ghosts,  that's  what  I 
mean." 

Samuel  had  kept  away  from  that  house  since  his 
father's  strange  connection  with  it,  though  he  often 
passed  near  it,  as  the  house  was  close  by  the  Academy, 
but  back  from  the  street. 

The  Judge  delivered  quite  a  harangue  on  the  "Sperits  " 
he'd  seen  there  while  on  his  nightly  beat. 

The  remarks  of  the  Judge  soon  passed  from  Samuel's 
mind. 

One  evening  as  he  was  going  from  the  Academy  chapel, 
where  he  had  attended  a  lecture,  and  seen  Rachel  and 
Edith  Snow  march  off  arm  in  arm,  refusing  all  atten 
tions  of  young  gentlemen,  Samuel  disconsolately  passed 
down  the  street.  It  was  a  dark  night.  Suddenly  he  felt 
his  arms  pinioned  from  behind ;  a  cloth  cap  or  hood  was 
drawn  over  his  face,  and  tightly  tied  down.  Several 
persons  noiselessly  bore  him  somewhere,  he  couldn't 
quite  tell  where.  He  tried  to  scream,  and  kicked  like  a 
good  fellow,  till  they  got  his  legs  firmly  tied  together. 
Not  a  word  had  his  assailants  spoken,  and  despite  his 
violent  struggle,  they  bore  him  on.  At  length  he  was 
placed  in  a  sitting  position,  but  unable  to  call  or  move. 

"  Spirits  attend,"  said  a  voice. 

"  Hear,  hear!  "  cried  a  chorus  of  voices. 

'  This  mortal  will  soon  put  on  immortality." 

"  Put  on  immortality,"  echoed  the  voices. 

"  He's  about  to  die." 


Shadow  and  Sunshine.  333 

"  About  to  die,"  came  the  echo. 

"  Strike,  spirits  all." 

Then  Samuel  felt  long  lashes  plied  about  his  body, 
causing  great  pain. 

"  I've  got  on  to  the  matter,"  he  thought.  "  It's  Ed 
wards  with  a  gang  trying  to  frighten  me  in  the  haunted 
house." 

Then  with  his  iron  will  and  great  strength  when  fully 
aroused,  he  snapped  the  cord  about  his  wrists,  though  in 
so  doing  he  tore  the  flesh  open  till  it  bled  a  stream.  He 
pulled  the  cap  from  his  face,  stood  up  and  looked  about 
him.  His  eye  singled  out  Edwards  just  in  front  with 
a  white  sheet  about  him,  lash  in  hand.  He  raised  his 
bleeding  hand  and  struck  Edwards  down,  snatched  a 
knife  from  his  pocket  and  cut  the  thongs  about  his  feet. 

Other  white-robed  figures  were  there.  He  started  for 
them,  felled  two  more  at  a  single  blow  each,  then  went 
to  Edwards,  who  was  attempting  to  rise,  and  with  those 
terrible  fists,  which  looked  so  innocent,  he  gave  that 
young  man  such  a  dressing  down  as  he  never  experienced 
before  nor  since.  The  other  white-robed  figures  ran 
away  with  screeches,  and  Samuel  decided  to  leave  the 
fallen  heroes  in  their  low  estate  and  betake  himself 
home. 

'  Thought  you  could  frighten  me  with  ghosts,  did 
you  ?  "  muttered  the  young  Hercules  as  he  strode  from 
the  haunted  house  on  to  the  street.  "  They'll  find  out 
after  a  while  that  a  farmer's  boy  has  too  much  muscle  for 
them,  I  reckon,"  and  he  might  have  added,  "  when  his 
fiery  temper  comes  to  his  aid." 

The  next  day  there  was  tumult  at  the  Academy.  Rumor 
had  it  that  Edwards  and  half  a  dozen  companions  had 
been  down  to  the  haunted  house  and  been  suddenly  at 
tacked  by  ghosts,  getting  fearfully  injured.  Edwards 
was  laid  up  with  a  broken  head,  and  had  some  love  spots 
on  his  face  which  would  leave  scars  for  one  while.  Two 
other  fellows  were  badly  used  up,  and  were  in  bed, 
though  not  so  seriously  hurt  as  Edwards. 

"  I  told  yer  so,"  said  the  Judge.  "  Them  sperits  up 
there  are  goin'  it  jest  awful." 

The  Principal  wondered  how  there  came  to  be  a  scrim- 


334  Love  and  Liberty. 

mage  in  that  house,  and  who  the  assailants  were.  The 
wounded  men,  however,  "  kept  dark,"  and  Samuel  at 
tended  to  his  duties  as  usual,  going  about  with  a  small 
plaster  on  his  wounded  wrist,  and  a  quiet  smile  upon  his 
face. 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  335 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

THE    IRREPRESSIBLE    CONFLICT. 

MEANWHILE  the  terrible  struggle  for  human  freedom 
was  approaching  a  climax.  The  Democratic  convention 
met,  divided,  adjourned,  and  met  again.  After  with 
drawal  of  many  delegations,  Benjamin  F.  Butler  of 
Massachusetts  announced,  amidst  a  great  sensation,  the 
determination  of  a  majority  of  the  delegates  from  his 
state,  not  to  participate  further  in  the  deliberations  of  the 
convention.  Gen.  Butler  said :  "  We  now  put  our  with 
drawal  before  you  upon  the  simple  ground,  among 
others,  that  there  has  been  a  withdrawal  in  part  of  a  ma 
jority  of  the  states,  and  further  (and  that  perhaps  more 
personally  to  myself)  upon  the  ground  that  I  will  not  sit 
in  a  convention  where  the  African  slave  trade — which  is 
piracy  by  the  laws  of  my  country — is  approvingly  advo 
cated." 

Then  came  the  nomination  of  Douglass.  The  seceders' 
convention  nominated  Breckenridge  of  Kentucky,  and  the 
Constitutional  Union  party,  Bell  and  Everett,  while  the 
Republicans  were  anxiously  waiting  for  the  outcome  of 
their  national  convention  to  be  held  in  Chicago,  May  16. 

At  the  Illinois  state  convention,  held  a  week  before  the 
national  gathering,  John  Hanks,  with  a  companion, 
marched  into  the  convention,  bearing  two  old  fence  rails. 
They  carried  a  banner  which  stated  that  these  two  rails 
were  from  the  identical  lot  of  three  thousand  which  Lin 
coln  had  helped  to  cut  in  1830,  to  enclose  his  father's 
first  farm. 

The  deafening  shouts  which  followed  were  the  prelude 
to  a  unanimous  recommendation  of  Lincoln  for  the  Presi 
dential  candidate. 

The  Republican  convention  at  Chicago  will  be  forever 


Love  and  Liberty. 

memorable  in  the  history  of  our  country.  The  issues 
were  clearly  defined. 

In  many  minds,  William  H.  Seward,  then  United 
States  senator  from  New  York,  was  the  leading  man. 
He  had  wrought  well  in  the  cause  of  humanity,  was 
strong  in  his  anti-slavery  convictions,  outspoken  in  his 
utterances,  and  a  profound  statesman.  Henry  Wilson 
and  Frank  Noble  were  both  delegates  from  Massachu 
setts. 

"  What  are  the  prospects  for  Seward  ?  "  asked  Noble. 

"  Good,"  answered  Wilson,  "  and  yet  there  are  symp 
toms  of  discontent  in  some  quarters.'' 

"You  know  what  I've  told  you  all  along,  Wilson; 
Seward  will  not  win.  He's  too  much  of  a  politician  to 
please  some." 

"  He's  a  great  man,  Noble,  and  as  a  reward  for  well 
doing  no  man  deserves  the  nomination  more  than  he." 

"  That  may  be  true,  but  some  think  that  he's  too  arro 
gant,  and  self  appears  prominently.  So  far  as  his  utter 
ances  on  slavery  are  concerned,  I  rejoice  in  his  fearless 
ness  of  expression,  though  that,  of  course,  with  the 
moderate  Republican  would  be  against  him." 

"  Some  think  it's  a  foregone  conclusion,  but  I  have  my 
doubts  about  his  success,"  said  Wilson. 

"  You  know  my  mind,"  said  Noble.  "  Abraham  Lin 
coln  of  Illinois,  and  I  believe  he's  the  coming  man.  That 
Cooper  Institute  speech  will  help  to  make  him  President." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  answered  Wilson.  "  I  am  favorable 
to  Lincoln,  if  that  appears  the  best  outcome,  but  Seward 
is  a  close  friend  and  noble  senator.  How  will  Chase  run, 
do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Some  believe  he  will  poll  a  good  vote,  others  that 
he  will  not  much  more  than  carry  his  own  delegation 
from  Ohio." 

"  The  real  problem  of  the  convention,  Wilson,  is  who 
will  carry  the  doubtful  states?  New  Jersey,  Indiana  and 
Illinois.  I  doubt  if  either  Seward,  Chase  or  Cameron 
could  do  it,  but  Lincoln  can." 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  shall  be  guided 
by  circumstances." 

"  There  is  certainly,  with  the  divided  democracy,  the 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  337 

absolute  necessity  of  union  among  ourselves  if  we  win, 
for  I  believe  the  crisis  is  here." 

"  Horace  Greeley  has  a  seat  for  Oregon,  I  perceive.  I 
understand  he  is  opposed  to  Seward." 

"  So  I  believe,"  replied  Wilson. 

A  temporary  wooden  structure,  christened  "  The  Wig 
wam,"  was  erected  for  the  convention,  which  was  well 
adapted  for  the  purpose. 

David  Wilmot  of  Pennsylvania  was  made  temporary 
chairman.  George  Ashmun  of  Massachusetts,  a  fine  par 
liamentarian,  was  made  permanent  presiding  officer. 

"  Good,"  exclaimed  Noble,  "  Massachusetts  as  usual  is 
in  the  vanguard." 

The  building  would  hold  ten  thousand  persons.  The 
galleries  were  crowded,  and  the  deepest  interest  pervaded 
the  spectators.  The  platform  presented  was  remarkably 
well  framed.  It  denounced  disunion,  and  the  theory  that 
the  Constitution  carries  slavery  into  the  territories.  It 
also  declared  against  reopening  the  slave  trade,  and  de 
nied  ''  the  authority  of  a  territorial  legislature  or  any 
individuals  to  give  legal  assistance  to  slavery  in  any  ter 
ritory  in  the  United  States." 

After  the  platform  was  read,  Joshua  Giddings  of  Ohio 
moved  to  amend  the  first  resolution  by  incorporating  the 
phrase  which  announces  the  right  of  all  men  to  "  life, 
liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,"  but  the  convention, 
in  the  hurry  to  get  to  business,  voted  down  the  amend 
ment. 

The  anti-slavery  veteran  felt  wounded,  and  walked 
out  of  the  convention.  His  friends,  sorry  that  he  should 
feel  hurt,  and  grieved  that  harmony  should  be  marred  by 
even  a  slight  matter,  followed  Mr.  Giddings,  and  sought 
to  have  him  return. 

"  Too  bad,"  exclaimed  Wilson.  "  We  might  have  put 
in  the  '  self-evident  truth  '  to  please  the  royal  old  man." 

"  Surely,"  replied  Noble.  "  I  didn't  suppose  he  would 
take  it  to  heart  so  keenly." 

"  George  William  Curtis  is  on  the  floor,"  said  Wilson, 
"  renewing  Gidding's  motion." 

Sure  enough,  with  a  grand  burst  of  charming  oratory, 
Mr.  Curtis  swept  away  all  objections,  asking  if  they 
22 


33$  Love  and  Liberty. 

wished  to  go  on  record  as  voting  clown  the  words  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  His  eloquent  appeal  car 
ried  the  convention  by  storm,  and  a  new  vote  embodied 
the  phrase  in  the  platform,  just  as  Mr.  Giddings,  rejoic 
ing  in  his  triumph,  returned  to  his  seat. 

"  Hurrah,  he's  victorious,"  shouted  Noble  out  of  the 
tumult,  as  waves  of  applause  fairly  shook  the  wigwam, 
and  the  whole  platform  was  adopted  amidst  tremendous 
cheers. 

Horace  Fuller  was  present  at  this  convention,  seated  at 
the  reporters'  table  as  correspondent  of  the  Philadelphia 
Chronicle,  and  wrote  intensely  interesting  reports.  \\  e 
give  our  readers  sections  from  his  correspondence : 

"  The  New  York  delegation  feel  assured  of  Seward's 
triumph  ;  their  marches  to  the  convention  are  with  ban 
ners  and  music  and  very  imposing;  but  it  is  whispered 
that  while  they  are  parading  the  streets,  the  Illinois  dele 
gates  are  actively  at  work  in  the  wigwam." 

"  What  pen  shall  adequately  describe  this  vast  audience 
of  ten  thousand  people?  The  low  wave-like  roar  of  its 
ordinary  conversation  ;  the  rolling  cheers  that  greet  the 
entrance  of  popular  favorites ;  the  solemn  hush  which 
falls  upon  it  at  the  opening  prayer.  There  is  just  enough 
of  the  unexpected  preliminary  wrangle  and  delay  to 
arouse  the  full  impatience  of  both  convention  and  spec 
tators.  But  now  the  names  of  candidates  are  announced. 

"  Mr.  Evarts  of  New  York  is  speaking,  '  I  take  the 
liberty  to  name  as  candidate  to  be  nominated  by  the  con- 
t  vention  for  the  office  of  President  of  the  United  States, 
\Yilliam  H.  Seward  of  New  York.' 

"  And  now  Mr.  Judd  from  Illinois,  '  I  desire  on  behalf 
of  the  delegation  from  Illinois  to  put  in  nomination  as  a 
candidate  for  President  of  the  United  States,  Abraham 
Lincoln.' 

"  Now  are  named  Dayton,  Cameron,  Chase,  Rates  and 
others ;  it  is  expected  that  most  of  these  last  named  men 
will  receive  on  the  first  ballot  the  complimentary  vote  of 
their  state  delegations,  and  not  many  other  votes. 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  339 

"  The  '  Complimentary  '  candidates  are  lustily  cheered 
by  their  delegations,  but  at  the  names  of  Seward  and 
Lincoln,  the  whole  wigwam  seems  to  respond  together. 
The  struggle  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  a  contest  of 
throat  and  lungs.  Indiana  is  seconding  the  nomination 
of  Lincoln,  and  the  applause  is  deafening;  now  Michigan 
seconds  Seward's  nomination,  which  produces  a  similar 
result.  As  I  write  Ohio  once  more  seconds  Lincoln.  I 
thought  the  Seward  yell  could  not  be  surpassed,  but  the 
Lincoln  boys  are  clearly  ahead.  The  shrieking  and 
stamping  makes  every  plank  and  pillar  in  the  building 
quiver. 

'*  The  convention  have  adopted  the  majority  rule. 
They  are  now  casting  the  first  ballot.  The  result  is  de 
clared  ;  Seward  has  one  hundred  and  seventy-three  and 
one-half  votes ;  Lincoln  one  hundred  and  two.  The  in 
terest  and  excitement  are  intense.  People  around  me  are 
saying  that  Seward  will  be  defeated.  It  is  thought  he 
has  polled  his  full  vote. 

"  The  cry  comes,  '  Call  the  roll  again,'  and  it  seems  to 
come  from  a  thousand  throats. 

"  They  are  taking  the  second  ballot.  It  is  over ;  Sew 
ard  has  one  hundred  and  eighty-four  and  one-half ; 
Lincoln  one  hundred  and  eighty-one ;  scattering,  ninety- 
nine  and  one-half.  There  is  a  tremendous  burst  of  ap 
plause,  which  the  chairman  is  vainly  trying  to  control. 
The  faces  of  the  New  York  delegation  are  white  with 
disappointment.  Lincoln's  popularity  is  like  a  mighty 
river. 

"  The  utmost  silence  has  fallen.  The  third  ballot  is 
begun  amidst  breathless  suspense.  Hundreds  of  pencils 
are  keeping  pace  with  the  roll-call  and  nervously  mark 
ing  the  changes  on  the  tally  sheets. 

"  Lincoln  is  gaining;  votes  are  coming  to  him  from  all 
the  other  candidates.  Lincoln  has  gained  fifty  and  one- 
half.  Seward  lost  four  and  one-half.  The  official  tellers 
have  not  footed  up,  but  four  hundred  and  sixty  ballots 
are  cast.  Two  hundred  and  thirty-three  are  necessary 
for  a  choice.  Lincoln  only  lacks  one  and  one-half  votes. 
A  profound  stillness  has  fallen  upon  the  wigwam  again ; 
men  have  ceased  talking,  ladies  have  stopped  fluttering 


340  Love  and  Liberty. 

their  fans.  Yon  can  hear  the  scratching  of  pencils  and 
the  ticking  of  the  telegraph  instruments. 

"  No  announcements  have  been  made  by  the  chair. 
Every  one  is  leaning  forward  in  intense  expectancy. 

"  Mr.  Carter  of  Ohio  is  on  his  chair  announcing  a 
change  of  four  Ohio  votes  from  Chase  to  Lincoln.  There 
is  a  moment's  pause,  a  teller  is  waving  his  tally  sheet 
towards  the  skylight  rnd  shouts  a  name, — Lincoln! 

'  The  boom  of  a  cannon  is  heard  on  the  roof  of  the 
wigwam. 

'  The  Lincoln  river  has  become  an  inundation.  Dele 
gation  after  delegation  are  changing  votes  to  the  victor, 
amidst  wildest  hurrahs.  Mr.  Evarts  of  New  York  is  on 
his  feet ;  he  pauses ;  the  presiding  officer  announces  that 
on  the  third  ballot  Abraham  Lincoln  of  Illinois  has  re 
ceived  three  hundred  and  sixty-four  votes,  and  '  is  se 
lected  as  your  candidate  for  President  of  the  United 
States.'  Mr.  Evarts  can  scarcely  conceal  his  emotion, 
but  with  great  dignity  and  touching  eloquence,  speaking 
for  Seward  and  New  York,  moves  to  make  the  nomina 
tion  unanimous,  and  it  is  done  amidst  the  tumultuous 
applause  of  ten  thousand  people. 

"  Later,  Hannibal  Hamlin  of  Maine  is  nominated  for 
Vice-President." 

"  I  told  you  so,"  cried  Noble  to  Wilson ;  "  Lincoln  is 
the  coming  man  !  " 

"  He  is  our  candidate,"  answered  Wilson,  "  and  has 
my  hearty  support,  but  Seward  will  keenly  feel  his  de 
feat." 

"  Perhaps  Lincoln  will  make  him  Secretary  of  State," 
replied  Noble. 

"  You  seem  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Lincoln  will  be 
elected,"  said  Wilson. 

"  I  believe  it,"  answered  his  friend. 

Frank  Noble  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Florence : 

"  MY  DEAR  DAUGHTER  : — 

"  I  am  having  an  interesting  time  at  this  great  conven 
tion.  I  believe  it  will  go  down  into  history  as  the  most 
epochal  gathering  in  the  anti-slavery  movement.  The 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  341 

excitement  is  intense.  In  the  hotel  parlor  at  the  Illinois 
headquarters,  are  two  old  fence  rails  which  are  claimed 
to  be  some  that  Lincoln  split  many  years  ago.  They 
cause  a  great  sensation,  and  are  objects  of  much  curiosity 
and  interest  to  all  the  delegates  and  visitors.  Ladies 
have  covered  them  with  flowers  and  lighted  them  with 
tapers ;  all  the  ladies  are  very  enthusiastic  over  these 
backwoods  souvenirs  of  the  great  statesman,  and  take 
much  pride  in  the  decorations. 

"  I  shall  be  home  some  days  later,  and  hope  to  meet 
you  all  in  good  health.  Later — Lincoln  has  been  nomi 
nated. 

"  With  much  love, 

"  Your  father, 

"  FRANK  NOBLE." 

The  following  editorial  appeared  in  the  New  York 
Herald,  May  19,  1860: 

"  The  Republican  convention  at  Chicago  have  nomi 
nated  Abraham  Lincoln  of  Illinois  for  President  of  the 
United  Ttates— A  THIRD-RATE  WESTERN  LAW 
YER.  POORER  EVEN  THAN  POOR  PIERCE. 
The  conduct  of  the  Republican  party  in  this  nomination 
is  a  remarkable  instance  of  a  small  intellect  growing 
smaller.  They  pass  over  Seward,  Chase  and  Banks,  who 
ai  •  statesmen  and  able  men,  and  they  take  up  A 
FOURTH-RATE  LECTURER  WHO  CANNOT 
SPEAK  GOOD  GRAMMAR,  AND  WHO,  TO  RAISE 
THE  WIND,  DELIVERS  HIS  HACKNEYED,  IL 
LITERATE  COMPOSITIONS  AT  $200  APIECE. 
Our  readers  will  recollect  that  this  peripatetic  politician 
visited  New  York  two  or  three  months  ago  on  his  finan 
cial  tour,  when  in  return  for  the  most  unmitigated  trash, 
interjected  with  coarse  and  clumsy  jokes,  he  filled  his 
empty  pockets  with  dollars  coined  out  of  Republican 
fanaticism." 

"  Father,  father,"  shouted  Samuel,  bursting  into  the 
house  that  memorable  Saturday  that  the  news  of  Lin- 


342  Love  and  Liberty. 

coin's  nomination  reached  Seaview,  "  they've  nominated 
Lincoln ;  Honest  Old  Abe  is  the  man  to  lead  us  to  vic 
tory.  The  rail-splitter  \viil  he  in  evidence  now  !  " 

"  So  Lincoln  has  won,"  returned  James.  "  I  rejoice; 
I  feel  that  in  some  way  he  will  have  the  honor  to  break 
the  bondsmen's  fetters,  though  just  how  it  will  come 
about,  I  cannot  tell." 

"  Joe,"  exclaimed  Judge  Slocum  that  same  day,  "  Lin 
coln  will  be  our  next  President.  He  will  free  the  slaves. 
My  son,  I  am  getting  old ;  I  only  wish  to  live  to  see  my 
brother  in  black  have  equal  rights  with  the  white  race, 
and  the  curse  of  slavery  removed  from  the  nation." 

\Yillard  Aldrich  met  Jerome  Goddard  in  Glentown  that 
eventful  Saturday.  "  Well,  Mr.  Goddard,  our  friend 
of  Cooper  Institute  fame  will  lead  the  Republican  hosts 
in  this  campaign.  I  trust  that  he  may  be  elected." 

"  Lincoln  is  a  great  man,"  replied  Goddard.  "  The 
fact  that  the  Democracy  is  divided  will  give  us  a  chance 
for  victory." 

The  campaign  which  followed  will  not  soon  be  for 
gotten. 

The  animating  spirit  of  the  Republicans  was  that 
slavery  was  wrong  in  principle,  and  detrimental  to  so 
ciety,  and  that  it  must  not  be  allowed  to  further  extend 
its  harmful  and  ruinous  policy  ;  yet,  for  the  sake  of  peace, 
they  proposed  to  let  it  alone,  where  it  was  already  estab 
lished. 

The  other  parties  were  understood  to  believe  in  sla 
very,  though  all  candidates  claimed  devotion  to  the 
Union. 

"  Father,"  said  Samuel  one  day  to  James,  "  whatever 
may  be  said  about  Douglass,  he  fearlessly  announces  that 
the  Union  must  be  preserved,  if  necessary,  by  force." 

"  I  have  no  confidence  in  Douglass,"  replied  James. 
"  He  is  anything  for  popularity  and  position.  Did  you 
read  what  Lincoln  said  in  accepting  the  nomination  ?  " 
continued  James. 

"  '  I  implore  the  assistance  of  Divine  Providence  in 
whatever  duties  lie  before  me!'"  answered  Samuel. 

"  Right,"  replied  his  father. 

"  To-night  I  march  with  the  '  Wide  Awake  Club,' ': 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  343 

said  Samuel ;  "  they've  made  me  captain.     We  must  il 
luminate,  mother  Lucy." 

"  Can  I  see  them  ?  "  questioned  John  Gardiner. 

"  If  you  are  a  good  boy,  perhaps  we'll  let  you  sit  up 
till  the  club  goes  by  the  house,"  answered  Lucy. 

"  I'll  be  real  good,"  replied  Master  John. 

"  These  clubs  are  being  formed  all  over  the  country," 
said  Samuel. 

'  They  will  probably  prove  an  interesting  feature  of 
the  Lincoln  campaign,"  returned  Lucy. 

That  evening  the  "  Wide  Awakes "  had  their  first 
torchlight  procession ;  many  of  the  Academy  boys  were 
in  the  club.  They  formed  into  line  and  marched,  first 
on  to  Academy  Avenue,  Samuel  at  their  head,  where 
faculty  and  students  were  gathered  on  the  spacious  pi 
azzas,  and  cheered  them  again  and  again. 

"  There  are  Miss  Aldrich  and  Miss  Snow,"  said  Sam 
uel  to  Greene,  who  marched  by  his  side. 

''  Yes,  see  them  wave  their  handkerchiefs,"  replied 
Greene. 

The  houses  were  illuminated  wherever  the  occupants 
were  in  favor  of  Lincoln.  At  length  the  line  marched 
up  Elm  Street.  Samuel's  parents  and  John  G.  were  in 
front  of  their  house,  which  was  decorated  with  flags  and 
well  lighted. 

"  See  their  pretty  caps,"  called  Johnny.  "  What's  them 
things  they're  wearin'?"  continued  he. 

"  Those  are  oil-cloth  capes,"  replied  Lucy. 

"  There's  Samuel !  "  cried  Johnny,  and  he  called  to 
him. 

"  Are  them  guns?  "  asked  the  boy  again. 

"  No,  those  are  the  torches.  Don't  you  see  the  long 
staffs  with  the  light  on  the  end  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

"  Isn't  it  a  brilliant  display?  "  she  said  to  James. 

"  Very  prettv,"  answered  her  husband.  "  I  would 
think,"  he  added,  "  that  the  appearance  of  these  clubs 
would  captivate  the  popular  eye,  and  that  they  might 
form  vigilant  corps  to  spread  the  fame  of  Lincoln,  and 
also  to  solicit  votes  for  him. 

"  Perhaps  they  will,"  Lucy  replied. 

"  Hurrah  for  Honest  Old  Abe !  "  shouted  the  company. 


344  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  The  Railsplittcr  forever!  "  cried  they  again. 

Then  Greene,  recognizing  that  this  was  Samuel's  home, 
called  out:  "Three  cheers  for  Mr.  Fuller  and  Captain 
Samuel !  "  . 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  will,  flags  waved,  music 
played,  and  the  company  marched  on. 

The  campaign  went  forward.  There  were  many  fluc 
tuations.  At  first  matters  were  in  doubt,  but  as  time 
passed,  Lincoln's  popularity  appeared  to  increase.  The 
Glentown  friends  grew  optimistic  with  hope.  James  and 
Samuel  believed  Lincoln  would  be  triumphant. 

Tides  of  strong  feeling  swept  across  the  continent. 
Horace  Fuller  voiced  in  his  correspondence  the  variant 
pulse  of  the  nation.  One  day  he  wrote :  "  The  crisis  of 
the  nation  has  come.  Our  fathers  fought  and  died  to 
give  us  a  free  nation.  We  are  about  to  put  in  power  a 
man  whom  God  will  use  to  carry  out  the  purpose.  The 
hell-hounds  of  slavery  are  on  his  track,  however.  The 
election  of  Lincoln  means  a  movement  of  secession  in 
the  South.  John  Brown's  spirit  will  get  possession  of 
the  North  in  due  time  and  out  of  the  terrible  conflict  will 
be  evolved  the  solemn  truth  again  that  man's  freedom 
cannot  be  taken  from  him  without  the  Avenger  takes  the 
price  in  blood." 

"  Great  truths  are  portions  of  the  soul  of  man. 
Great  souls  are  portions  of  eternity; 
Slave  is  no  word  of  deathless  lineage  strung. 
Too  many  noble  souls  have  thought  and  died 
Too  many  poets  lived  and  sung. 

"  And  our  good  Saxon  from  lips  purified, 
With  martyr  fire  throughout  the  world  hath  rung, 
Too  long  to  have  God's  holy  cause  denied." 

The  early  state  elections  were  against  the  Republicans, 
but  the  later  elections  indicated  Republican  strength. 

At  length  the  eventful  day  of  the  Presidential  election 
came. 

Many  Abolitionists,  while  not  fully  satisfied  with  the 
Republican  attitude,  nevertheless  voted  for  Lincoln.  The 
polls  closed  at  sundown  and  the  votes  were  counted  by 
midnight.  Horace  Fuller  knew  first  of  all  our  friends 
that  Lincoln  had  won. 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  345 

All  night  long  he  remained  at  the  telegraph  taking  the 
returns. 

Seven  hours  after  midnight  the  telegraph  had  flashed 
over  the  country  the,  result. 

That  Wednesday  morning  was  eagerly  watched  for, 
by  our  friends  in  this  history. 

Margaret  Aldrich  had  prayed  alone  in  her  room  most 
of  the  night  that  God  would  hear  the  cry  of  His  people. 

Rachel  did  not  sleep  till  into  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning. 

James  and  Samuel  both  retired,  but  in  the  morning 
privately  confessed  each  to  the  other  that  he  had  not  been 
asleep. 

Willard  was  tired  and  slept,  but  was  early  awake  and 
started  for  the  telegraph  station  to  get  the  news. 

When  the  tidings  reached  our  friends,  each  heart  was 
full  of  thanksgiving,  and  Margaret  said,  "  The  day  of 
God  is  breaking,  and  the  dawn  is  full  of  glory !  " 

February  16,  1861,  Frank  Noble  with  Henry  Wilson 
walked  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  Washington. 

Just  ahead  of  them,  walked  a  tall,  strong-looking  man, 
perhaps  thirty  years  of  age.  It  was  Horace  Fuller  on  his 
way  to  report  the  proceedings  at  the  Capitol. 

"  This  is  a  great  day/'  said  Noble,  "  though  of  course 
it  changes  nothing." 

"  A  day  of  importance  nevertheless,"  returned  Wilson. 
"  General  Scott  has  brought  his  batteries  here  which  won 
in  the  field  at  Buena  Vista." 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir?  "  inquired  Horace  with  a  bow, 
introducing  himself.  The  statement  was  repeated  and 
Horace  wrote  rapidly. 

"Are  you  from  the  East?  I  know  a  Mr.  Fuller  who 
somewhat  resembles  you,  though  older,"  said  Noble. 

"  I  have  an  Uncle  James  in  Seaview,"  was  the  answer. 

"  The  very  same,"  said  Noble ;  "  I  met  him  with  other 
friends  at  Cooper  Institute,  New  York,  when  Lincoln 
delivered  his  great  lecture.' 

"May  I  ask  your  name?"  inquired  Horace  (writing 
nearly  a1!  the  time).  | 

"  Noble,"  was  the  answer,  "  from  Glentown.  Mass," 


346  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,"  said  Horace;  "  I  have  been 
in  Glentown  and  met  a  Miss  Florence  Noble." 

"  She  is  mv  daughter,"  was  the  reply. 

They  reached  the  Capitol.  Great  crowds  were  there. 
The  city  was  full  of  excitement ;  the  slaveholders  uttered 
many  threats  and  announced  that  the  Government  should 
be  broken  up  in  a  row.  In  the  midst  of  that  slaveholding 
region,  desperadoes  were  numerous  and  others  could  be 
speedily  summoned  from  Maryland  and  Virginia. 

Our  friends  looked  at  those  frowning  guns,  com 
manded  by  General  Scott,  ready  to  sweep  the  streets  if 
conspirators  should  attempt  an  insurrection,  but  the 
slaveholders  were  overawed. 

At  12  o'clock,  Speaker  Pennington  said,  "  The  House 
will  come  to  order,  Chaplain  Stockton  will  offer  prayer." 

Prayer  was  offered  for  both  the  outgoing  and  incom 
ing  administration. 

Horace  Fuller  sent  the  following  despatch  to  his  paper, 
which  tells  the  rest  of  the  proceedings : 

"  A  message  is  sent  to  the  Senate  stating  that  the 
House  is  ready  to  receive  them,  that  the  Electoral  votes 
may  be  opened,  and  counted. 

"  The  Senate  is  entering  the  hall  of  Representatives, 
the  House  rises  and  remains  standing  while  the  Senators 
take  their  seats  in  a  semicircular  range  before  the  Speak 
er's  desk. 

"  Vice- President  Breckenridge,  who  is  a  defeated  Presi 
dential  candidate,  takes  his  seat  at  the  right  of  the 
Speaker. 

"  Order  is  restored,  and  Mr.  Breckenridge  commences 
to  speak.  He  says  : 

'  'We  have  assembled  pursuant  to  the  Constitution,  in 
order  that  the  Electoral  votes  may  be  counted,  and  the 
result  declared  for  President  and  Vice-President,  for  the 
term  commencing  March  4th,  1861.  It  is  my  duty 
under  the  Constitution  to  open  the  certificates  of  election 
in  the  presence  of  the  two  Houses,  and  I  now.  proceed  to 
the  performance  of  that  duty.' 

"  He  has  broken  the  packages  from  each  state,  and 
handed  them  to  the  tellers  to  be  counted. 


The  Irrepressible  Conflict.  347 

"  The  galleries  are  crowded  with  the  most  distin 
guished  persons  in  the  land.  Some  look  cheerful  and 
hopeful ;  some  have  compressed  lips  and  are  pale  and 
anxious.  It  is  rumored  that  there  are  notorious  conspira 
tors  in  the  groups,  gloomy  and  threatening. 

"  Perfect  silence  ensues  as  the  following  announce 
ment  is  made : 

'  One  hundred  and  eighty  votes  were  cast  for  Abra 
ham  Lincoln,  seventy-two  for  John  C.  Breckenridge, 
thirty-nine  for  John  Bell,  twelve  for  Stephen  A.  Doug 
lass,  a  majority  of  fifty-seven  over  all  others  for  Abra 
ham  Lincoln.' 

"  Intense  interest  prevails. 

"  Vice-President  Breckenridge  is  rising.  He  says : 
'  Abraham  Lincoln  of  Illinois,  having  received  a  major 
ity  of  the  Electoral  votes,  is  duly  elected  President  of  the 
LTnited  States  for  the  four  years  commencing  March  4, 
1861.  And  Hannibal  Hamlin  of  Maine,  having  received 
a  majority  of  the  whole  number  of  Electoral  votes,  is 
duly  elected  Vice-President  for  the  same  term.  The  Sen 
ate  will  now  return  to  their  o\vn  chamber.' 

"  The  five  thousand  spectators  crowding  the  galleries 
are  silently  retiring,  and  Abraham  Lincoln  stands  forth 
before  the  world  the  constitutionally  elected  President 
of  the  United  States." 

"  It  is  all  over,"  said  Noble,  "  and  there  has  been  no 
outbreak." 

"  I  am  thankful !  "  responded  Wilson. 

"  Good  day,  gentlemen,"  said  Horace  as  he  left  them. 

"  Good  day,  sir,"  was  the  response. 


348  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 
A  WOMAN'S  HEART. 

RACHEL  ALDRICH,  in  her  room  at  the  Academy*  was  in 
a  meditative  mood. 

Before  her  lay  two  letters.  The  one  which  came  first 
read  as  follows : 

"  PROVIDENCE,  R.  I.,  May  20,  1860. 
"  MY  DEAR  FAIRY  : — 

"  Your  letter  which  came  duly  to  hand  was  read  with 
the  most  intense  pleasure,  though  I  could  wish  it  was 
more  favorable  to  your  devoted  suitor  who  pens  these 
lines. 

"  I  arri  glad,  however,  that  I  may  have  the  privilege 
of  writing  to  her  who  occupies  such  a  large  part  of  my 
thought,  and  of  telling  her  again  how  much  I  love  her. 

"  My  dear  Rachel,  you  do  not  know  the  strength  of 
my  devotion.  Our  lives  have  been  so  closely  interwoven 
from  childhood,  we  have  been  so  much  together,  any 
thought  which  suggests  that  we  should  not  some  day  be 
united,  in  the  dearest,  closest  ties,  falls  heavily  upon  my 
heart. 

"  Your  happiness  and  my  own  appear  to  be  dependent 
upon  our  union.  Think,  Rachel,  love,  that  some  day  we 
might  be  no  more  than  strangers  to  each  other ;  we  who 
have  played  and  laughed  and  sung  together ;  we  who 
have  studied  similar  things,  whose  aspirations  and  tastes 
and  hopes  have  been  so  closely  allied.  Be  kind  to  me, 
my  darling,  in  this ;  think  favorably  of  my  proposal. 
You  do  not  doubt  my  love,  you  know  I  worship  you. 
My  heart  is  ever  longing  for  you.  I  would  seek  in  every 
possible  way  to  make  you  happy,  and  in  any  matters  of 
disagreement,  would  always  respect  your  convictions. 


A  Woman's  Heart.  349 

Only  a  few  days  more  remain  before  our  commencement. 
Remember,  my  Fairy,  Clifford  cannot  live  without  you. 
"  You  are  my  hope,  my  all,  my  life;  do  not  tear  away 
the  affection  which  has  been  binding  us  together  all  these 
years,  but  promise,  when  you  write  again,  that  you  will 
be  some  day  my  own  sweet  bride. 

"  Ever  your  devoted  lover, 

"  CLIFFORD  NOBLE." 

The  other  letter  ran  thus : 

"  SEAVIEW.,  May  21,  1860. 
"  Miss  RACHEL  ALDRICH, 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — You  will  pardon  me  for  writing 
this  note.  I  have  been  greatly  pained  of  late,  that  you 
have  not  allowed  me  to  be  more  friendly  with  you. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  those  weeks  when  we  were  so 
often  together,  and  you  were  so  kind  to  me,  brought  joy 
into  my  life.  I  have  never  known  any  lady  friend  except 
yourself  in  whom  I  have  been  particularly  interested. 

;i  Your  beauty  and  grace,  your  attractive  ways,  the 
love  of  freedom  which  you  have,  with  the  thought  that 
you  resemble  my  dear  mother,  have  all  been  chains  which 
bound  me  to  you.  .1  must  not  write  you  now  all  that  is 
in  my  heart.. 

"  What  have  I  done,  dear  Miss  Aldrich,  that  I  should 
not  be  further  in  your  confidence?  That  blessed  night 
in  New  York  when  we  listened  together  to  that  great 
man,  who  loves  our  holy  cause,  and  who  even  now  has 
been  chosen  to  lead  the  hosts  of  freedom  to  certain  vic 
tory,  remains  a  bright,  holy  memory  with  me ;  but  ever 
since,  you  have  appeared  to  avoid  me ;  you  only  speak  as 
you  would  to  any  young  man ;  will  allow  me  no  oppor 
tunity  to  see  you,  will  not  call  at  my  home,  nor  allow  me 
to  escort  you  to  any  place. 

"  God  knows  I  cannot  go  on  further  like  this.  I  must, 
with  your  consent,  know  my  error  if  error  I  have  com 
mitted  in  any  way. 

"  Kindly  allow  me  to  see  you  at  the  earliest  opportu 
nity  and  let  me  know  wherein  I  have  offended. 

"  O  Miss  Aldrich,  if  you  knew  all  the  aspirations  and 


350  Love  and  Liberty. 

longings  of  my  heart,  I  am  sure  you  would  look  kindly 
upon  me. 

"  I  send  my  sincerest  regards  and  best  wishes. 
"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  SAMUEL  FULLER." 

Rachel  read  first  one  letter,  and  then  the  other  several 
times,  and  communed  with  herself. 

"  Clifford  claims  me,  but  he  has  no  right.  It  is  true 
we  have  been  long-time  friends,  I  like  him  well  enough ; 
he  has  wealth,  social  position,  a  fine  education,  is  a  fine 
fellow  in  many  wavs.  I  gave  him  the  privilege  of  writ 
ing  and  he  presses  his  suit. 

"  Father  and  mother  I  know  would  be  pleased  with 
him  as  a  son-in-law,  all  but  his  pro-slavery  principles. 

"  He  told  me  in  his  previous  letter  he  should  vote  for 
Douglass  if  he  is  nominated.  He  doesn't  even  accept 
Lincoln's  position. 

"  How  can  I,  for  the  sake  of  ease  and  wealth,  the 
daughter  of  an  Abolitionist,  of  a  Puritan  mother,  allow 
myself  to  be  united  for  life  with  Clifford  Xoble?  I 
would  have  no  play  for  my  freedom-loving  nature,  my 
soul  would  be  absorbed  with  the  trivialities  of  life.  Mrs. 
Noble  does  not  like  me,  nor  I  her.  Florence  is  beautiful, 
and  perhaps  under  some  training  would  make  a  noble 
woman,  but  we  are  not  congenial,  and  to  crown  all,  right 
down  in  my  heart,  though  I  highly  respect  Clifford  as  a 
friend,  I  do  not,  yes  it  is  true,  /  do  not  loi'c  him." 

Thus  she  communed  with  her  heart,  and  thought  of 
her  old-time  friend.  Then  she  thought  of  Samuel. 

"  He  asks  an  explanation,  and  he  is  entitled  to  it. 
Perhaps  I  allowed  him  too  much  liberty  at  first ;  but  how 
could  I  do  differently  and  then, — and  then —  His 
father,  Samuel  says,  watches  for  my  face  upon  the  street 
and  ta1ks  about  my  resemblance  to  his  beautiful  wife. 
How  could  I  continue  in  a  familiar  way  with  him,  when 
Clifford  expected  so  much  of  me?  P>ut  Clifford  has  no 
right,  I  know  I  have  hurt  Samuel.  It  is  too  bad,  I  must 
make  amends;  he  is  beautiful,  manly,  brilliant.  Yes, 
just  as  brilliant  as  Clifford  with  the  same  advantages, 
perhaps  more  so.  He  will  make  a  glorious  man ;  I  fear 


A  Woman's  Heart.  351 

he  actually  worships  me.  I  know  he  is  poor,  no  busi 
ness,  no  prospects,  no  social  position ;  neither  had  my 
father  when  he  began,  but  no  one  would  say  that  now. 
And  think  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  What  are  Samuel's 
poverty  and  lack  of  advantages  compared  with  Lincoln's, 
that  noble  man  whom  Samuel  and  I  both  believe  will 
help  to  free  the  slaves?  Yes,  Samuel  and  I  are  one  in 

thought,  for  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  then,  you  see 

I  like — I  like  him,  yes  I  do ;  my  heart,  I  cannot  say  you 
nay.     I  must  send  him  a  note." 
She  took  her  pen  and  wrote : 

"  MR.  FULLER, 

"  DEAR  FRIEND  : — I  will  see  you  in  the  second  parlor  for 
a  few  moments  this  evening,  and  give  any  explanation 
you  may  desire. 

"  RACHEL  ALDRICH." 

Then  she  prayed.  "  Father  in  heaven,  guide  me  in 
these  matters,  make  my  duty  clear  and  plain,  I  call  for 
Thy  help  and  wisdom.  I  cannot  forget  my  mother's 
teaching.  Thou  art  He  who  must  direct  my  way." 

She  handed  Samuel  the  note  after  the  Greek  recitation 
that  afternoon ;  and  when  he  read  it  going  home,  he  gave 
a  leap  along  the  street  which  made  the  passers-by  gaze 
at  him  in  amazement. 

Samuel  and  Rachel  met  that  evening  as  arranged. 

"  Miss  Aldrich,  I  thank  you  kindly  for  this  interview," 
said  Samuel. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Fuller,"  came  the  reply. 

"And  now  will  you  tell  me  my  offense?"  inquired 
Samuel. 

"  You  have  not  greatly  offended  me,"  said  Rachel, 
"  but  1  must  tell  you  that  Mr.  Noble  and  I  are  old 
friends,  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  ought  not 
to  accept  particular  attention  from  any  other  gen 
tleman  while  he  regarded  me  in  the  way  that  he  has 
done." 

"  And  are  things  different  now?"  asked  Samuel. 

"  No, — that  is, — well,  I  thought  you  deserved  an  expla- 


352  Love  and  Liberty. 

nation,  and  as  I  seek  to  be  fair  with  all  and  kind  in  every 
way,  I  gave  you  this  opportunity  to  see  me  as  you  de 
sired." 

"  Does  this  mean  that  I  must  not  see  you  again,  or  that 
our  pleasant  meetings  may  be  resumed  ?  " 

"  It  means  that  I  have  nothing  against  you,  but  for 
the  present,  while  we  may  be  good  friends,  perhaps  that 
should  be  all." 

"  O,  Miss  Aldrich,  let  me  be  your  friend  and  escort. 
You  are  very  dear  to  me.  There  is  an  excursion  for  the 
students  as  you  know  before  commencement ;  may  I  have 
the  pleasure  of  your  company*  at  that  time?  And  will 
you  not  call  at  our  home  at  least  once  before  vacation? 
Father  almost  worships. you,  because  of  that  striking  re 
semblance  of  which  you  know,  while  his  son  is  also  your 
ardent  admirer,"  and  Samuel's  blue  eyes  looked  into 
Rachel's  face,  with  that  peculiar  magnetic  gaze,  which 
Rachel  was  powerless  to  resist. 

Now  I  do  not  know  why  blue  eyes  are  so  full  of 
pathos  and  power.  Perhaps  all  such  eyes  are  not  alike, 
but  this  I  know,  that  when  Samuel  gazed  with  such 
adoration  into  that  beautiful  face,  with  the  blushes  upon 
that  fair  cheek,  Rachel  Aldrich  lost  all  power  of  resist 
ance  and  Samuel  won  his  plea. 

The  consent  was  given  to  call  once  before  vacation  in 
that  humble  home  of  James  Fuller,  and  Samuel  was  ac 
cepted  as  escort,  on  that  school  excursion,  soon  to  take 
place. 

When  our  hero  went  away,  he  asked  the  privilege  of 
pressing  just  one  kiss  upon  those  ruby  lips,  but  Rachel, 
thinking  now  of  Clifford,  and  what  he  would  say,  and 
turning  her  dark  eyes,  so  that  they  would  not  meet  Sam 
uel's  blue  ones,  said : 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Fuller,  I  must  deny  you  the  request  to 
night  ;  wait ;  give  me  time ;  I  feel  so  powerless  when  with 
you ;  I  can  hardly  tell  what  my  duty  is." 

"  Well,  Rachel,  darling — may  I  call  you  so? — good 
night ;"  and  though  he  did  not  get  his  kiss,  he  almost 
knew  that  Rachel  Aldrich  loved  him. 

With  such  knowledge  as  that,  he  might  well  be  con 
tented  to  wait  a  little,  and  so  he  was. 


A  Woman's  Heart.  353 

That  call  with  Edith  Snow  was  duly  made  one  Satur 
day  afternoon,  when  James  was  at  home,  and  Samuel's 
father,  as  before,  gazed  enraptured  into  Rachel's  coun 
tenance  and  upon  that  lovely  form,  and  wondered  if 
in  all  the  Grecian  goddesses  of  which  Samuel  had  talked 
with  him  somewhat  of  late,  there  was  a  single  one  so. 
divinely  fair. 

While  Samuel,  mirth-provoking  and  full  of  fun,  kept 
just  as  sober  as  it  was  possible,  considering  all  his  good 
fortune. 

John  Gardiner  crept  up  slyly  by  the  fine  young  lady, 
and  suddenly  looked  up  into  those  bewitching  hazel  eyes, 
and  said,  "  You're  real  pretty,"  whereat  everybody 
laughed,  except  Lucy,  who  felt  so  mortified,  she  knew  not 
what  to  do. 

However,  Mistress  Lucy  would  not  let  the  young 
ladies  go  till  she  had  served  them  a  dainty  lunch,  with 
the  finest  tea  you  ever  tasted,  out  of  tiny  cups  which 
were  her  special  pride. 

Samuel  walked  demurely  with  the  girls  to  the  board 
ing-house,  and  bade  them  good-by.  He  behaved  him 
self  so  considerately  that  Rachel,  with  her  sense  of  jus 
tice,  praised  him  in  her  heart  and  thought :  "  The  dear, 
good  fellow  shall  lose  nothing  by  his  restraint,  when 
fitting  opportunity  occurs." 

When  that  excursion  came,  and  Samuel  had  fair 
Rachel  all  day  near  himself,  he  was  the  happiest  young 
man  that  ever  wralked'the  earth. 

The  school  went  to  Rocky  Point,  and  wandered  all 
about  the  famous  shore  resort,  and  had  a  wonderful 
shore  dinner  with  baked  clams,  a  queer  dish  the  western- 
bred  young  people  thought,  but  which  Samuel  told  Miss 
Rachel  he  liked  full  well.  And  she,  to  please  Samuel,  ate 
a  few,  though  what  there  was  about  them  very  fine  she 
surely  couldn't  tell. 

The  happiest  part  of  all  to  Samuel  was  when  with 
Rachel  fair  he  sat  upon  the  mossy  stones  beneath  the 
grand  trees,  and  chatted  of  that  cause  in  which  his  soul 
and  Rachel's  held  sweet  converse,  the  liberty  of  men, 
and  there,  Rachel,  to  please  Mr.  Samuel,  recited  Long 
fellow's 

23 


354  Love  and  Liberty. 


SLAVE   IN   THE   DISMAL   SWAMP. 

"  In  dark  fens  of  the  dismal  swamp 

The  hunted  negro  lay, 
He  saw  the  fire  of  the  midnight  camp, 
And  heard  at  times  a  horse's  tramp, 
And  a  blood-hound's  distant  bay. 

"  A  poor  old  slave,  infirm  and  lame ; 

Great  scars  deformed  his  face; 
On  his  forehead  he  bore  the  brand  of  shame, 
And  the  rags  that  hid  his  mangled  frame, 
Were  the  livery  of  his  disgrace. 

"  All  things  above  were  bright  and  fair, 

All  things  were  glad  and  free  ; 
Lithe  squirrels  darted  here  and  there, 
And  wild  birds  filled  the  echoing  air, 
With  songs  of  liberty. 

"  On  him  alone  was  the  doom  of  pain 

From  the  morning  of  his  birth  ; 
On  him  alone  the  curse  of  Cain 
Fell,  like  a  flail  on  the  garnered  grain, 
And  struck  him  to  the  earth." 


"  Rachel,  how  terribly  sad  it  all  is/'  exclaimed  Samuel, 
as  she  finished  the  plaintive  poem. 

"  It  cannot  be  much  longer  that  God  will  suffer  men 
created  in  His  image,  to  thus  be  under  the  heel  of  cruel 
oppression  ;  our  Republican  leader,  noble  Lincoln,  next 
November,  will  bring  to  men  who  sit  in  thraldom,  hope 
and  liberty." 

"  I  truly  trust  that  you  are  right,"  answered  Rachel. 
"  Now,  Mr.  Fuller,  it  is  your  turn  to  recite  some  poem 
of  freedom."  And  Samuel,  looking  into  Rachel's  face, 
recited,  "  The  Present  Crisis,"  from  Lowell,  emphasizing 
the  following  stanzas : 

"  Once  to  every  man  and  nation 

Comes  the  moment  to  decide 
In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood, 

For  the  good  or  evil  side  ; 
Some  great  cause  God's  new  Messiah, 

Offering  each  the  bloom  or  blight, 
Parts  the  goats  upon  the  left  hand 

And  the  sheep  upon  the  right. 
And  the  choice  goes  on  forever 

'Twixt  that  darkness  and  that  light. 


A  Woman's  Heart.  355 

"  For  Humanity  sweeps  onward  ; 

Where  to-day  the  martyr  stands, 
On  the  morrow  crouches  Judas 

With  the  silver  in  his  hands. 
Far  in  front  the  cross  stands  ready 

And  the  crackling  faggots  burn, 
While  the  hooting  mob  of  yesterday 

In  silent  awe  return, 
To  glean  up  the  scattered  ashes 

Into  history's  golden  urn." 

These  two  friends  upon  whom  Cupid  had  cast  his 
arrow,  after  talking  heart  to  heart  about  the  liberty  of 
men,  under  the  great  trees  that  afternoon,  talked  of  other 
things  which  all  the  world  regards  with  equal  interest. 
For  while  the  world  shall  stand,  and  races  come  and  go, 
the  golden  clays  of  courtship  and  love  will  ever  be  a  glad 
recurring  experience  among  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
men. 

Yet  these  friends  were  hardly  sure  of  what  the  future 
should  reveal,  for  while  Samuel  sought  to  tell  his  god 
dess  something  that  was  in  his  heart,  she  bravely  turned 
him  from  his  purpose,  though  she  trembled  and  her  color 
came  and  went. 

"  Not  now,  Mr.  Fuller,  must  you  say  too  much  to  me. 
Be  content  that  I  have  given  you  this  day,  where  we 
could  be  alone.  T  am  not  sifre  that  I  have  done  just 
right  in  coming  with  you,  though  I  greatly  have  enjoyed 
the  day  and  thank  you  for  your  kind  attention." 

But  Samuel,  in  spite  of  warning,  whispered  pleasant 
words  into  her  ears  and  ere  they  left  the  shady  nook 
where  they  had  sat  so  long,  stole  a  kiss  from  Rachel's 
lips,  with  those  blue  eyes  so  fixed  upon  her  that  she 
once  again  let  it  pass  in  silence,  though  she  ran  from 
him  into  the  open,  where  he  soon  overtook  her,  and  arm 
in  arm  they  wandered  through  the  grounds  and  by  the 
ocean  side,  where  the  rushing  waters  dashed  against  the 
great  rocks. 

As  they  stood  there  watching  the  steamer  from  Provi 
dence  land  the  passengers  at  the  dock,  Clifford  Noble, 
with  his  college  chum,  who  had  left  the  hot  city  for  a 
little  while,  walked  up  the  pier  and  saw  them  standing 
with  radiant  faces  gazing  towards  him. 


356  Love  and  Liberty. 

As  Clifford  approached  them,  Rachel's  heart  heat  vio 
lently. 

She  was  conscious  of  no  wrong,  yet  knew  that  Clif 
ford  would  regard  her  unkindly  because  she  was  there 
with  Samuel, — she  feared  the  young  men  would  quarrel 
over  her. 

When  Clifford  recognized  them,  an  oath  escaped  his 
lips,  though  Rachel  did  not  hear  it. 

He  quickened  his  pace  and  soon  reached  them. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Clifford,"  said  Rachel  sweetly,  ex 
tending  her  hand.  He  took  it  a  moment,  then  glared 
at  Samuel,  who  said, 

"  Mr.  Noble,  I'm  not  particularly  well  pleased  to  see 
you,  but  trust  you  are  well." 

"  I'm  well  enough,  sir,"  returned  Clifford  savagely. 

Clifford's  chum  moved  away.  "  Meet  me  over  at  the 
ice  cream  parlor  a  little  later,  Noble,"  he  said. 

"  All  right,"  was  the  answer. 

As  the  man  disappeared,  Clifford  growled. 

"  Mr.  Fuller,  what  right  have  you  to  be  here  with  Miss 
Aldrich  ?  " 

"  Clifford!  "  exclaimed  Rachel,  but  he  paid  no  heed  to 
her  warning  voice. 

"  I  have  a  perfect  right  here  or  I  should  be  elsewhere," 
replied  Samuel.  His  temper  was  rising,  but  he  meant 
if  possible,  for  Rachel's  sake,  to  control  himself. 

"  You  are  no  gentleman,  sir,"  snapped  Clifford. 

"  Be  careful,  Noble,  I'm  not  a  very  meek  man,  and 
cannot  stand  a  large  amount  of  abuse." 

"Abuse!"  sneered  Clifford.  "I  judge  you  are  ac 
customed  to  abuse,  and  don't  know  it  from  compli 
ments." 

Samuel  grew  white  at  the  lips,  his  blue  eyes  flashed, 
his  muscles  twitched  nervously. 

"  Clifford,  for  my  sake,  control  yourself,"  cried 
Rachel  in  a  beseeching  voice.  But  he  paid  no  attention 
to  her  entreaty. 

"If  there  was  a  spark  of  manliness  in  you.  Fuller, 
you  would  not  attempt  to  intrude  yourself  on  Miss  Aid- 
rich,  and  steal  away  her  affections  from  another." 

"  Noble,  beware,  I  tell  you ;  you  do  not  know  me.     I 


A  Woman's  Heart.  357 

spurn  you,  yet  no  man  ever  talked  to  me  this  way  before 
with  impunity.  I  warn  you  not  to  repeat  your  insults." 

"  Insults !  "  echoed  Clifford  in  a  mocking  voice.  "  It's 
a  question  if  a  man  like  you  can  be  insulted !  " 

Samuel's  face  was  the  picture  of  terrible  wrath ;  his 
fierce  look  made  Rachel  white  with  fear.  He  said  not 
another  word,  but  took  one  stride  towards  Clifford,  his 
arm  raised,  conscious  that  the  muscles  stood  out  like 
whip-cords.  In  another  instant,  if  Rachel  had  not  in 
terfered,  Clifford  would  have  been  laid  prostrate. 

She  rushed  between  the  angry  men,  crying,  "  Clifford! 
Samuel !  have  you  no  regard  for  me?  I  beseech  you  to 
have  a  care.  Clifford  Noble,  you  do  not  understand 
Mr.  Fuller.  He  is  the  height  of  honor.  You  have 
never  done  him  justice.  I  am  surprised  that  you  could 
speak  to  him  as  you  have." 

She  caught  Samuel's  upraised  arm,  and  it  dropped 
like  lead. 

"  Forgive  me,  Miss  Aldrich,"  said  Samuel.  "  I  am 
very  sorry  to  have  grieved  you,  but  you  must  acknowl 
edge  that  I  had  great  provocation. 

"  Will  you  kindly  take  my  arm?  "  he  continued. 

Rachel  slipped  her  arm  'into  his  and  they  walked  rap 
idly  away  from  Clifford,  who  sheepishly  sought  his  col 
lege  chum. 


358  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

THE   NEW    MAN   AT  THE   HELM. 

"  ALDRICH,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you.  It's  a  great 
treat  to  have  you  with  us  on  this  occasion." 

"  Thank  you,  Noble,  it's  fine  to  have  a  friend  at  Court, 
you  know." 

"  Ah,  Aldrich,"  spoke  up  Henry  Wilson.  "  It  seems 
a  long  time  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  taking  your 
hand." 

"  More  than  a  year,"  answered  Willard. 

"  Senator  Sumner,  this  is  Mr.  Aldrich,  a  member  of 
the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts,"  said  Wilson,  intro 
ducing  Willard. 

"  It  is  a  source  of  pleasure  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Aldrich." 
said  the  gentlemanly  Sumner.  "  I  have  often  heard  of 
you  through  our  friend,  Congressman  Noble." 

"  Senator  Sumner,  I  count  it  one  of  the  joyful  experi 
ences  of  my  life  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  returned 
Wiliard. 

The  place  was  Washington,  the  date  the  afternoon  of 
March  3,  1861.  The  following  day  would  witness  the 
inauguration  of  the  new  President. 

"  Lincoln  is  here,  I  understand,"  said  Willard. 

"  Yes,  reached  here  the  morning  of  February  23, 
secretly.  You  read  about  it,  I  suppose,"  answered 
Noble. 

"  The  papers  gave  an  account  of  it.  There  appears  to 
be  some  conspiracy  against  him,  I  believe,"  said  Willard. 

"  There  has  been  a  terrible  time,"  replied  Noble. 
"  Washinrton  is  now  thronged  with  strangers,  many 
from  the  South,  armed  with  bowie  knives  and  revolvers. 
\Ve  are  even  now  intensely  solicitous  about  Mr.  Lincoln. 
The  excitement  is  very  great ;  the  air  is  filled  with 


The  New  Man  at  the  Helm.  359 

rumors  of  conspiracies,  to  prevent  the  inauguration  by  a 
bloody  tumult  and  by  seizing  the  Capitol.  General  Scott 
is  here,  however,  with  his  guns  and  soldiers,  and  with 
Secretary  Holt  is  making  effectual  preparations  to  meet 
any  emergency." 

"  The  slave  power  is  rabid.  There  will  be  an  impos 
ing  military  escort,  to  conduct  President  Lincoln  to  the 
Capitol  and  back  again  to  the  White  House,  after  the 
inauguration  ceremonies." 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  feels  his  responsibility  and  danger,  I 
judge,"  replied  Aldrich. 

"  He  surely  does,"  was  the  answer.  "  You  read,  per 
haps,  about  his  journey  from  Springfield,  Illinois. 
There's  a  clipping  from  the  Philadelphia  Chronicle,  writ 
ten  by  Mr.  Fuller,  whom  we  met  here  the  day  the  Elec 
toral  votes  were  counted." 

Willard  took  it  and  read : 

'  The  President  elect  has  arrived  in  Washington. 
This  is  a  source  of  gratitude  to  all  lovers  of  the  Republi 
can  cause.  Rumors  have  filled  the  air  that  he  would 
be  assassinated  on  his  passage  through  Maryland.  Great 
anxiety  has  been  felt  about  his  passing  through  Balti 
more,  the  desperate  character  of  some  of  the  people 
making  his  safety  a  matter  of  apprehension. 

"  Since  February  n,  when  he  left  his  home  in  Spring 
field  where  he  made  that  touching  address  to  his  towns 
men,  his  journey  has  been  one  constant  ovation.  At  In 
dianapolis,  cannons  boomed,  bells  rung,  and  the  legisla 
ture  met  him  at  the  station  and  conducted  him  to  the 
hotel. 

"  At  Cincinnati  the  crowd  was  so  great  as  to  b1ock  the 
railroad  train.  The  flag  floated  everywhere.  Similar 
things  occurred  at  Columbus  and  Pittsburg.  At  Buf 
falo,  he  was  received  by  Ex-President  Filmore,  with 
whom  he  remained  over  Sunday.  At  Albany,  the  Mayor 
gave  an  address  of  greeting  to  which  Mr.  Lincoln  hap 
pily  responded.  In  fact  all  of  his  addresses  have  been 
of  excellent  character.  At  Philadelphia  he  attended  the 
ceremony  of  raising  the  United  States  flacr  over  Inde 
pendence  Hall,  where  he  gave  utterance  to  the  following 
memorable  words : 


360  Love  and  Liberty. 

'  That  principle  which  has  kept  this  Confederacy  so 
long  together  is  the  sentiment  in  the  Declaration  of  In 
dependence,  which  gave  liberty,  not  alone  to  the  people 
of  this  country,  but  I  hope  to  the  world,  for  all  future 
time.  If  this  Union  cannot  be  saved  without  giving  up 
this  principle,  I  was  about  to  say,  I  would  rather  be  as 
sassinated  on  the  spot  than  surrender  'it.' 

'  The  danger  of  passing  through  Baltimore  was  so 
great,  it  was  deemed  advisable  for  Mr.  Lincoln  to  frus 
trate  the  plans  of  conspirators  who  sought  his  death  by 
taking  an  earlier  train,  which  he  did,  reaching  Washing 
ton  at  6.30  this  morning.  Hon.  Mr.  Washburn  had 
been  privately  informed  of  his  coming,  met  him  at  the 
station,  and  accompanied  him  to  Willard's  hotel,  where 
they  met  Senator  Seward." 

"  That's  a  good  running  account  of  that  eventful 
journey,"  said  Noble,  as  Willard  handed  back  the  clip 
ping  to  his  friend. 

"  Very  interesting,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  had  not  un 
derstood  before  about  the  conspiracy  and  the  closing 
part  of  his  journey.  Who  is  this  Mr.  Fuller?  " 

"  Do  you  recollect  Mrs.  Fuller  and  her  boy,  who  saved 
our  cousin's  life  at  Purgatory?" 

"  Of  course,  I  recollect ;  Mrs.  Ful'er  is  still  acting 
the  good  angel  to  Mrs.  Lyons,  and  they  have  adopted 
her  boy,  because  of  his  fancied  resemblance  to  their 
lost  son,  I  hear." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Fuller  is  a  blessing  in  that  home,  desolated 
by  sorrow  and  death.  This  newspaper  man  is  reported 
to  be  her  brother-in-law." 

"  Ah !  indeed,  that  reminds  me  of  the  Mr.  Fuller  we 
met  at  Seaview,"  said  Willard,  "  who  went  with  us  on 
that  excursion  to  New  York." 

He  is  uncle  of  Horace  the  Chronicle  correspondent," 
answered  Xoble. 

That  evening  Frank  Noble  and  his  friend  spent  the 
hours  in  close  conversation  about  the  political  matters 
in  which  they  were  equally  interested,  and  discussed  an 
other  matter  which  concerned  them  most  vitally,  but 
which,  much  to  their  mutual  regret,  was  not  just  as  fa 
vorable  as  they  would  have  desired.  However,  nothing 


The  New  Man  at  the  Helm.  361 

could  mar  the  holy  friendship  between  these  two  men, 
pioneers  in  a  cause  fraught  with  such  glorious  issues. 

"  Perhaps  even  now,"  said  Noble,  "  matters  will  adjust 
themselves  as  we  so  earnestly  desire." 

"  I  could  wish  it,  my  friend,  for  our  sakes,  but  am  not 
sanguine  concerning  such  a  result,"  was  the  reply. 

The  next  morning  dawned  bright  and  beautiful.  The 
city  was  early  astir.  Pennsylvania  Avenue  was 
thronged,  the  center  of  attraction  being  Willard's  hotel 
where  the  President-elect  occupied  apartments.  The 
procession  began  to  form  about  9  o'clock.  It  was  very 
brilliant  and  imposing.  Our  friends  engaged  a  carriage 
and  were  early  in  the  midst  of  the  throng.  Horace  Ful 
ler  alert,  was  discovered  and  introduced  to  Willard  Aid- 
rich.  Willard  regarded  him  curiously.  "  He  looks 
enough  like  Mrs.  Fuller  to  be  her  own  brother,"  was  his 
mental  ejaculation.  His  strong,  manly  way  attracted 
general  attention ;  his  pencil  was  constantly  moving. 

"  See  that  triumphal  car,"  exclaimed  Noble.  "  Isn't 
that  a  striking  feature?" 

"  Beautiful,"  returned  Willard.  "  The  Constitution," 
he  read.  "  The  Government  evidently  has  no  idea  of 
recognizing  the  Union  as  dissolved,"  he  continued. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Noble. 

The  large  car  bore  thirty-four  very  beautiful  girls 
robed  in  white,  representing  the  several  states,  and 
drawn  by  twelve  white  horses,  was  a  magnificent  part  of 
the  procession. 

"  There  they  come,"  cried  Noble. 

As  he  spoke  Willard  looked  and  saw  President  Bu 
chanan  in  a  carriage  seated  by  the  side  of  President-elect 
Lincoln,  riding  along  the  avenue. 

"  I  understand  even  now,  that  there  are  threats  that 
Lincoln  shall  not  be  permitted  to  take  the  oath  of  office," 
paid  Horace  Fuller  to  our  friends  as  he  came  near  their 
carriage. 

"  God  protect  him,"  replied  Willard. 

"  Amen,"  said  Horace  and  Noble  together. 

General  Scott  rode  along  the  line  in  full  uniform. 

"  A  splendid  figure,  Aldrich." 


362  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Fine,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Horace  Fuller  says  there  are  one  thousand  regulars 
in  line  and  a  large  number  of  uniformed  militia." 

"\es?" 

The  senate  had  been  in  session  most  of  the  preceding 
forty-eight  hours,  and  barely  concluded  its  labors  in  time 
for  Vice-President-elect  Breckenridge  to  resign  the  chair, 
and  take  his  seat  on  the  floor  as  a  member,  while  Vice- 
President-elect  Hamlin  left  the  floor  to  take  the  chair, 
the  two  exchanging  places. 

Several  new  Senators  with  Breckenridge  were  sworn 
in,  and  the  Ambassadors  of  foreign  powers  in  full  uni 
form  occupied  the  allotted  space  in  the  chamber,  the 
magnates  blazing  with  stars  and  orders. 

Soon  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court  entered  in  a 
body,  and  the  assemblage  rose  and  stood  till  they  were 
seated.  The  members  of  the  House,  including  Noble, 
now  filed  in,  when  it  was  announced  that  the  Presidential 
party  was  at  hand. 

The  whole  assembly  then  proceeded  to  the  eastern 
portico  of  the  Capitol  where  a  platform  had  been  erected, 
and  in  front  of  which  a  space  had  been  cleared,  and  was 
held  by  the  military.  General  Scott  in  personal  command. 

Buchanan  and  Lincoln  ascended  the  Capitol  steps  arm 
in  arm,  representatives  of  totally  different  principles  and 
ideas.  Buchanan  looked  pale  and  nervous ;  he  sighed 
audibly  and  frequently. 

Lincoln's  face  was  slightly  flushed,  his  lips  com 
pressed,  with  an  expression  of  gravity  and  firmness. 
There  was  an  air  of  honesty  and  nobility  about  him 
which  \\illar.l  Aldrich  saw,  and  thanked  God  that  this 
man  had  "  come  to  the  Kingdom  for  such  a  time  as  this." 

Lincoln  took  his  stand  tipn  the  platform.  Every  seat 
was  occupied.  Thirty  thousand  people,  who  appeared 
like  a  countless  throng,  filled  the  ground  below,  a  surging 
mass  of  friends  and  foes. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  Noble,  Willard  had  a  good 
seat.  Horace  Fuller  was  in  the  reporter's  quarters. 

In  that  great  throng  were  exasperated  Secessionists, 
watching  for  a  chance  to  strike  a  blow,  and  valiant  pa 
triots  ready  to  repel  any  blow  at  the  hazard  of  life. 


The  New  Man  at  the  Helm.  363 

It  was  a  sight  to  stir  the  blood  of  brave  men,  and 
the  cause  of  freedom  had  courageous  defenders  around 
that  great  man  about  to  assume  the  highest  office  within 
the  gift  of  an  enlightened  people. 

Senator  Baker  of  Oregon  spoke : 

"  The  Honorable  Abraham  Lincoln,  President-elect  of 
the  United  States." 

Perhaps  one  fourth  of  the  great  audience  burst  into 
cheers. 

When  silence  had  succeeded,  Lincoln  unrolled  a  manu 
script,  and  in  a  firm,  clear,  penetrating  voice,  read  his 
inaugural  address.  His  voice  arrested  every  car  in  that 
vast  crowd. 

Speaking  of  secession,  he  said :  "  Physically  speaking, 
we  cannot  separate, — we  cannot  remove  our  respective 
sections  from  each  other,  nor  build  an  impassable  wall 
between  them.  They  cannot  but  remain  face  to  face ; 
and  intercourse  either  amicable  or  hostile  must  continue 
between  them. 

"  Suppose  you  go  to  war ;  you  cannot  fight  always,  and 
when,  after  much  loss  on  both  sides,  and  no  gain  on 
either,  you  cease  fighting,  the  identical  questions,  as  to 
terms  of  intercourse,  are  again  upon  you." 

He  said  with  reference  to  his  policy,  "  To  the  extent  of 
my  ability  I  shall  take  care,  as  the  Constitution  'itself  ex 
pressly  enjoins  upon  me,  that  the  laws  of  the  Union  be 
faithfully  executed  in  all  the  States.  In  doing  this  there 
need  be  no  bloodshed  or  violence  and  there  shall  be  none, 
unless  it  is  forced  upon  the  national  authority." 

He  finished  as  follows : 

"  I  am  loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies  but  friends ; 
we  must  not  be  enemies.  Though  passion  may  have 
strained,  it  must  not  break  our  bonds  of  affection.  The 
mystic  chords  of  memory,  stretching  from  every  battle 
field,  and  patriotic  grave,  to  every  living  heart  and 
hearthstone  all  over  this  broad  land,  will  yet  swell  the 
chorus  of  the  Union,  when  again  touched,  as  surely  they 
will  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our  nature." 

Our  friends,  with  Wilson  and  Sumner,  listened  with 
great  interest  to  the  inaugural. 

"  He   cannot  avoid   war,"   exclaimed   Wilson.     "  His 


364  Love  and  Liberty. 

great  heart  would  save  them  from  its  horrors,  but  I  fear 
it  will  have  to  come." 

"  But  what  a  magnificent  inaugural,"  said  Noble. 
"  How  he  plead  with  the  people  to  be  friends." 

Horace  Fuller  said  to  Aldrich  near  him: 

"  Nothing  will  avail ;  the  Southerners  would  not  agree 
to  yield  their  secession  principles,  unless  the  North  sub 
mits  to  their  plan  for  the  extension  of  slavery." 

"  Abraham  Lincoln  faces  the  most  terrible  condition 
of  the  Government  ever  known  in  our  history,"  said 
Sumner. 

"  He  hoped  by  a  conciliatory  tone  to  pacify  the  seces 
sionists,  but  I  agree  with  Mr.  Fuller  that  his  olive-branch 
will  be  offered  in  vain,"  answered  Aldrich. 

"  They  will  take  it  as  a  challenge  to  war,"  said  Horace. 

Horace  spoke  the  truth. 

The  following  extract  from  an  editorial  of  the  Phil 
adelphia  Pennsylvanian  gives  some  idea  of  the  feeling 
even  by  more  Northern  Democrats  of  Lincoln's  position : 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  stands  to-day  where  he  stood  on  the 
6th  of  November  last — on  the  Chicago  platform.  He  has 
not  receded  a  single  hair's  breadth.  He  has  appointed  a 
cabinet  in  zvhich  there  is  no  slaveholder,  a  thing  that 
has  never  before  happened  since  the  formation  of  the 
government;  and  in  which  there  are  but  two  nominally 
Southern  men,  and  both  bitter  Black  Republicans  of  the 
radical  dye.  Let  the  Border  states  ignominiously  submit 
to  the  Abolition  rule  of  this  Lincoln  administration,  if 
they  like,  but  don't  let  the  miserable  submissionists  pre 
tend  to  be  deceived.  Make  any  base  or  co\vardly  excuse 
but  this." 

Abraham  Lincoln  knew  all  that  our  friends  had  stated. 
The  four  months  preceding  his  election  had  been  well 
used  by  the  conspirators  to  destroy  the  Union. 

President  Buchanan,  old  and  weak,  sympathizing  with 
the  slave  power,  was  their  pliant  tool  in  their  bare-faced 
plans  for  the  destruction  of  the  Government.  Their 
plans  now  are  well  known.  Cobb  was  in  the  Treasury, 
and  when  the  new  administration  came  into  power,  the 
Treasury  was  empty ;  six  millions  of  dollars  were  stolen 
and  probably  appropriated  to  the  work  of  rebellion. 


The  New  Man  at  the  Helm.  365 

Cobb  then  resigned  and  took  office  with  the  Seces 
sionists. 

Jacob  Thompson  was  a  slaveholder  from  Mississippi, 
and  Secretary  of  the  Interior.  He  did  all  in  his  power 
to  prevent  reinforcement  of  the  fortresses.  The  Star  of 
the  West  was  sent  with  supplies  for  the  starving  gar 
rison  in  Fort  Sumter.  Thompson  telegraphed  the 
armed  conspirators  in  Charlestown,  and  the  unarmed 
steamer  was  driven  back  by  the  batteries.  This  man, 
while  a  cabinet  officer,  betrayed  his  country,  and  jeop 
ardized  the  lives  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  in  the 
service  of  the  Government,  and  afterwards  boasted  of 
the  deed,  and  the  seventy-five  men  at  Fort  Sumter  were 
abandoned  to  their  fate.  Thompson  then  resigned  his 
office  and  joined  the  rebels,  who  received  him  with  open 
arms. 

John  B.  Floyd,  a  slave  master  of  Virginia,  was  Secre 
tary  of  War.  He  planned  with  others  to  pour  in  troops 
from  the  adjacent  slave  states  of  Maryland  and  Virginia 
and  seize  Washington  with  all  its  treasures  and  make  it 
the  Capital  of  the  new  Confederacy.  In  pursuance  of 
this  plan,  the  few  thousand  regulars  of  the  army  were 
scattered  to  the  remote  fortresses  of  the  west,  which  left 
all  the  forts  in  the  slaveholding  states  defenseless,  and 
forts  containing  twelve  hundred  cannon,  which  cost  over 
six  millions  of  dollars,  were  seized  and  garrisoned  by  the 
rebels.  Floyd,  also  in  infamous  violation  of  his  oath, 
disarmed  as  far  as  possible  the  free  states  by  emptying 
the  arsenals,  and  sending  their  guns  to  the  slave  states, 
where  bands  of  conspirators  were  already  organizing 
and  drilling,  prepared  to  receive  them.  A  vast  amount 
of  cannon,  mortar  balls,  powder  and  shells  were  also  for 
warded  to  the  rebels.  When  this  was  all  accomplished, 
Floyd  resigned  as  Secretary  of  War,  and  was  appointed 
a  general  in  their  army. 

Isaac  Toucey  of  Connecticut  was  Secretary  of  the 
Navy,  with  Secession  principles.  He  scattered  our  navy 
of  ninety  vessels  to  the  distant  parts  of  the  earth,  leaving 
but  two  small  vessels,  carrying  twenty-seven  guns  and 
two  hundred  and  eighty  men,  in  Northern  ports.  Thus 
was  the  Government  despoiled  by  its  traitorous  officials. 


366  Love  and  Liberty. 

Buchanan  allowed  it  all  till  at  last  he  summoned  courage 
to  say  to  Congress^  "  that  the  rebellion  had  attained  such 
vast  and  alarming  proportions  as  to  place  the  subject 
entirely  beyond  Executive  control." 

On  February  i,  1861,  seven  states  had  seceded.  They 
had  also,  with  a  few  exceptions,  obtained  possession  of 
all  the  forts  and  arsenals  in  the  Cotton  state. 

Jefferson  Davis  had  been  elected  President  of  the 
"Confederate  States  of  America,"  and  Alexander  II. 
Stephens  Vice-President.  Davis  had  formed  a  cabinet,  so 
when  Lincoln  took  the  reins  of  government  that  fourth 
day  of  March,  two  opposing  principles  were  organized  for 
bitter  collision  which,  unless  some  compromise  could  be 
effected,  would  shake  the  continent  with  fratricidal  war. 

Eight  days  after  the  inauguration.  Secretary  Seward 
received  notice  from  two  commissioners  representing  the 
seven  states  in  rebellion,  asking  for  a  conference  to 
adjust  relations  between  the  two  governments,  which  the 
Secretary  refused,  stating  that  the  states  under  consider- 
tion  could  not  lawfully  withdraw  from  the  Union. 

"  Father,"  cried  Samuel,  as  he  read  the  reports  of  these 
transactions,  "  the  questions  of  liberty  and  slavery  have 
been  pressed  so  far,  that  two  antagonistic  governments 
stand  face  to  face  on  the  field  of  conflict." 

"  True,  my  son,"  returned  James,  "  but  I  believe  in 
the  Presidential  Cha;r  is  God's  chosen  man,  to  guide  the 
Ship  of  State  through  the  turbulent  waters,  into  the  de 
sired  haven." 


"A  Woman's  Love  is  Mighty."         367 


CHAPTER  LXI. 
"A  WOMAN'S  LOVE:  is  MIGHTY." 

"  CLIFFORD,  I  am  sorry  to  grieve  you,  but  I  shall  have 
to  say  '  no  '  to  your  proposal." 

"  Rachel,  listen  to  me.  You  do  not  realize  what  you 
are  doing- ;  that  you  are  tearing  the  fibers  of  my  heart.  T 
have  no  thought  for  any  other  woman  but  you.  I  cannot 
let  you  go.  What  can  that  young  fellow  ever  be  or  do 
for  you  ?  " 

"  You  must  not  speak  unjustly  of  Mr.  Fuller  at  all 
events,  Clifford." 

"  O  Fairy,  what  a  day  was  that  I  saw  you  there  to 
gether  on  t*he  shore.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  tear  him 
to  pieces.  It's  all  love  that  I  have,  my  darling,  for  you. 
Can  you  blame  me  for  being  offended  that  another  has 
usurped  my  place?  " 

"  There  you  mistake,  Clifford,  I  never  gave  you  aught 
but  friendship,  even  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  heart. 
Until  that  day  at  Rocky  Point,  I  had  always  respected, 
you,  and  do  to  some  extent  now,  but  I  do  not  love  you." 

"  Rachel,  Rachel,  say  not  those  words  again ;  you  drive 
me  wild !  " 

The  tears  were  gathering  in  Fairy's  lovely  eyes  as 
Clifford  spoke.  It  seemed  that  she  who  always  wished  to 
be  kind  must  inflict  pain  upon  others. 

That  day  when  Clifford  had  found  her  with  Samuel  at 
the  beach  had  tried  her  pure  soul.  Clifford's  insulting 
language  and  Samuel's  just  indignation  had  "awakened 
the  strongest  emotions  within  her.  Never  before  had  she 
realized  the  real  character  of  Clifford  Noble,  nor  the 
massive  strength  of  Samuel.  Their  homeward  journey 
had  been  sad,  and  vainly  did  Samuel  try  to  bring  the 
happy  loo.k  again  that  day  to  Rachel's  face. 

Commencement    had    come    and    gone.      Rachel    had 


368  Love  and  Liberty. 

bidden  Samuel  good-by  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  departed 
for  Glentown  for  the  summer  vacation. 

And  now  Clifford  had  called,  renewed  his  suit  and 
sought  to  press  his  claim. 

They  sat  there  in  the  parlor  a  long  while,  Clifford  tall 
and  fine  looking,  the  young  A.  B.  from  Brou'n,  possessed 
of  wealth,  position,  influence,  attractive  manners,  and 
everything  which  most  young  women  would  think  desir 
able  in  a  husband.  The  fathers  were  old-time  friends ; 
they  had  been  associated  together  from  childhood.  Clif 
ford  professed  utmost  devotion,  but  the  man  stirred  not 
a  single  ripple  of  love  in  the  woman's  heart.  She  felt 
no  response  to  all  his  earnest  declarations  of  strongest 
love. 

At  length  the  interview  became  painful  on  both  sides. 

"  Clifford  Noble,  hear  me  once  for  all.  I  am  a  woman, 
with  a  nature  capable  of  love,  and  yet  I  tell  you  truly, 
notwithstanding  all  your  plea  and  all  our  years  of  friend 
ship,  and  all  the  advantages  which  a  union  with  you 
would  offer,  and  as  agreeable  as  it  would  be  to  our 
fathers,  and  I  believe  to  my  mother,  you  do  not  move  my 
heart  at  all.  I  feel  no  quickening  of  my  pulse  when  your 
name  is  mentioned,  nor  stirring  of  my  soul  at  your  pres 
ence.  I  cannot  give  you  what  you  wish,  nor  what  you 
appear  to  have  for  me,  the  heart-love,  which  should 
always  go  with  every  true  marriage. 

"  Hence  to  promise  you  what  I  cannot  give,  would  be 
a  rank  injustice  both  to  you  and  me.  I  may  not  stultify 
myself  by  any  such  promise.  I  must  not  wrong  my 
womanly  nature  by  such  a  course,  though  I  could  wish, 
for  your  sake  and  those  connected  with  us,  that  I  might 
love  you." 

"Rachel,  Rachel!  love  will  come,  I'll  take  what  you 
can  give.  I  swear  to  be  ever  good  and  true  to  you,  if 
you  wiH'grant  my  plea." 

"  Clifford,  do  not  interrupt  me.  If  I  should  say  yes, 
when  my  heart  says  no,  I  would  forever  debase  myself  in 
my  own  estimation,  and  make  us  both  forever  unhappy. 
I  was  about  to  say,  that  I  believe  when  you  turn  from 
this  futile  chase  of  poor  unworthy  me,  that  you  will  find 
some  good,  true  heart  respond  to  your  wooing,  with 


"A  Woman's  Love  is  Mighty."         369 

whom  you  will  be  happy,  and  you  may  yet  be  worthy, 
Clifford,  of  a  true  woman's  love." 

She  looked  into  his  face,  flushed  and  excited,  but 
kindly,  having  naught  but  pure  good-will  to  him,  with 
whom  so  many  happy  hours  of  youthful  life  had  been 
spent,  and  he,  having  at  last  his  eyes  opened  with  that 
look,  could  see  what  he  had  never  seen  before,  that  a 
different  nature  and  motive  from  his  must  stir  that 
strong  womanly  nature  into  a  flame  of  loving  devotion. 

So  he  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and  told  Rachel  that  they 
should  always  be  friends,  and  asked  for  the  sake  of  old- 
time  memories  that  he  might  kiss  her  once.  She  con 
senting,  he  placed  his  lips  against  her  velvet  cheek,  and 
like  a  sister  moved  by  generous  impulse  at  his  conduct, 
knowing  his  heavy  heart,  she  kissed  him  in  return — and 
then  he  went  away,  his  lifetime  hope  having  departed. 

Rachel  was  now  happy.  She  was  sorry  for  Clifford, 
and  yet  she  had  not  felt  so  light-hearted  for  many  a  day. 

"  Clifford  will  get  over  it,"  she  said  to  her  mother, 
"  and  it's  right,  mother ;  you  would  not  have  me  marry 
a  man  I  do  not  love." 

"  Never,  my  daughter,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  it  will 
be  something  of  a  disappointment  to  your  father  and  Mr. 
Noble." 

Rachel  was  the  merriest  girl  you  ever  saw  all  that  va 
cation  ;  and  when  Chester  called,  and  in  spite  of  the 
letter  she  had  written  him,  renewed  his  devotion,  she 
told  him  no  so  decidedly  but  merrily,  and  recommended 
Grace  Brown  so  highly,  that  young  Mr.  Nye  thought  it 
worth  while  to  call  on  Miss  Grace,  and  that  young  lady, 
having  an  eye  to  the  fine  house  now  completed,  received 
him  most  graciously,  and  Chester  wondered  how  he 
never  happened  to  know  she  was  so  fine  before. 

One  day  all  unexpectedly  Rachel  received  the  follow 
ing  letter : 

"  SEAVIEW,  July  4,  1860. 
"  MY  DEAR  Miss  ALDRICH  :— 

"  I  am  at  work  in  the  shop  with  father  as  I  planned 
during  this   vacation.      It's   very   different   employment 
from  looking  up  Greek  roots  and  translating  Latin,  but 
24 


37°  Love  and  Liberty. 

quite  as  necessary  in  its  way.  I  am  a  loneV  fellow  with 
my  dearest  friend  away,  whom  I  cannot  see  this  dread 
fully  long  vacation,  unless  she  changes  her  mind  and 
lets  me  visit  her  in  that  Glentown  home. 

"  I  am  so  lonesome  that  sometimes  I  feel  like  crying, 
hut  then  it  wouldn't  do  any  good  and  what's  the  use. 
I  hope  that  dreadful  Nobleman  is  settled  once  for  all,  and 
nevermore  will  interfere  with  thee  and  me.  Now  I  can 
see  those  beautiful  eyes  of  yours  flash  into  my  face,  at 
this  unkind  remark,  but  you  must  acknowledge  he  didn't 
treat  me  very  well  that  June  day,  when  Posy  Girl  and  I 
were  having  such  a  glorious  time;  and  if  you  think  I'm 
bad,  forgive  me,  please,  and  I'll  not  do  so  any  more. 

"  They've  had  what  they  call  a  4th  of  July  celebration 
here  to-day,  and  such  horrible  and  unearthly  noises  are 
enough  to  drive  one  crazy. 

"  Father  reads  the  papers  a  good  part  of  the  time  when 
he's  out  of  the  shop,  and  writes  letters  to  Tom  Smith  and 
Joe  Siocum  over  Abolition  matters.  I  have  no  one  to 
write  to  except  Jimmie  Smith,  and  the  finest  young  lady 
I  ever  met,  who  didn't  even  give  me  permission  to  write 
her  a  single  letter  when  she  went  away  from  Samuel. 
Jimmie  Smith  is  the  awfullest  dunce  you  ever  saw,  but  he 
can  farm  it  to  beat  everything. 

"  I  take  the  liberty  to  pen  these  rambling  lines  to  one 
whose  image  is  always  in  my  heart,  whether  absent  or 
present. 

"  O  Rachel,  darling,  let  me  call  thee  so  this  time.  I 
miss  thee  so,  and  all  my  thoughts  are  turned  towards  Un 
fair  form  and  noble  heart. 

"  The  cause  we  love  is  moving  on,  and  Lincoln  surely 
will  win.  Sometimes  it  seems  as  if  there  is  to  be  some 
b'oody  struggle  in  which  we  both  shall  have  some  part. 
I  dream  about  the  future,  and  always  thou  art  connected 
with  me,  but  sometimes  there  seems  to  be  a  great  ca 
lamity  resting  over  us.  However,  may  our  Father  over 
rule  and  guide  us  safely  on.  I  wish  to  tell  thee  some 
thing  when  I  see  thee  again.  May  I  come  to  your  home  ? 
At  least  write  to  me. 

"  Your  disconsolate  friend, 

"  SAMUEL  FULLER." 


"  A  Woman's  Love  is  Mighty."         371 

Rachel  read  the  letter  with  cheeks  aglow  and  eyes 
sparkling. 

She  laughed  over  Samuel's  pronouns,  sometimes  plu 
ral  and  sometimes  singular.  She  knew  he  wrote  that 
way  on  purpose  to  amuse  her.  She  put  the  letter  in  her 
little  desk,  and  five  minutes  later  came  and  took  it  out, 
and  read  it  over  three  times  more.  Then  she  took  her 
pen  and  wrote  as  follows : 

"  GLENTOWN,  July  5,  1860. 
"  DEAR  MR.  FULLER  : — 

"  Your  letter  received.  You  really  mustn't  come  here 
this  vacation,  though  you  may  write  a  few  times,  but  not 
too  often. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  lonesome,  but  two  months  more 
will  soon  pass  away.  I  hope  next  year  will  be  a  pleasant 
year  at  the  Academy  for  you.  I  am  very  glad  to  be  at 
home  with  my  loved  ones  this  vacation.  Wendell  and 
Martin  are  fine  boys,  and  perhaps  some  time  you  will 
meet  them.  Father  is  quite  as  interested  over  Abolition 
matters  as  your  father,  and  my  mother  even  more,  if 
possible. 

"  I  hope  the  glad  good  time  when  liberty  to  all  shall 
come  to  pass  is  not  very  far  away ;  but  trust  the  dire 
calamity  of  which  you  dream  is  but  the  phantom  of  your 
disordered  imagination. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  RACHEL  FULLER." 

Then  she  slipped  out  of  the  house  and  mailed  it  at 
once. 

"  It's  too  bad  he's  so  lonesome,"  she  murmured  to  her 
self.  "  he  hasn't  so  many  relatives  and  friends  as  I." 

She  returned  to  her  room  and  watched  the  sun  go 
down  behind  the  western  hills  and  communed  once  again 
with  her  heart.  She  knew  well  enough  what  Samuel 
would  tell  her,  when  she  gave  him  half  a  chance. 

Because  of  her  relation  to  Clifford  she  had  kept  him 
from  an  open  declaration  of  his  love,  but  she  knew  on  her 
return  that  it  would  surely  come.  There  she  sat  and 
built  air  castles  for  a  while  of  what  their  future  was  to 
be,  for  now  she  felt  that  Samuel  and  she  were  somehow 


372  Love  and  Liberty. 

to  be  connected  in  those  great  triumphs  which  she  almost 
knew  would  come  to  her  native  land,  and  as  she  sat  she 
thought  of  stanzas  in  the 

LEGEND   OF   BRITTANY. 

"  All  beauty  and  afl  life  he  was  to  her  ; 

She  questioned  not  his  love,  she  only  knew 
That  she  loved  him,  and  not  a  pulse  could  stir 

In  her  whole  frame  but  quivered  through  and  through, 
With  this  glad  thought ;  and  was  a  minister 

To  do  him  fealty  and  service  too, 
Like  golden  ripples  hasting  to  the  land 
To  wreck  their  freight  of  sunshine  on  the  strand. 

"  O  dewy  dawn  of  love  !  O  hopes  that  are 

Hung  high,  like  the  cliff-swallows'  perilous  nest, 

Most  like  to  fall  when  fullest,  and  that  jar 
\Vitheveryheavier  billow!  O  unrest, 

Than  balmiest  deeps  of  quiet  sweeter  far! 
How  did  ye  triumph  now  in  Rachel's  breast. 

Making  it  readier  to  shrink  and  start  • 

Than  quivering  gold  of  the  pond-lily's  heart  !  " 

Unconsciously  at  first,  she  put  her  own  name  in  place 
of  "  Margaret,"  in  the  poem,  then  she  smiled  and 
thought,  "  It's  just  as  well." 

Now  she  had  given  up  her  spirit  to  Love's  grand 
fancies,  her  nature  rose  in  loftiest  flight  to  all  the  higher 
instincts  of  her  soul.  She  thought  of  Samuel  with  a 
heating  heart ;  never  came  a  thought  of  trouble,  that  he 
was  but  a  youth,  without  wealth,  position  or  fame. 

Her  imagination  clothed  him  with  every  excellency ;  he 
loved  the  cause  of  freedom  ;  he  would  some  day  win  a 
name  which  would  astonish  men.  His  noble  spirit 
\\ould  conquer  all  obstacles. 

He  would  be  the  champion  of  every  holy  cause,  and 
she —  And  then  she  sighed  and  blushed,  and  took  that 
letter  and  read  it  twice  again  before  she  locked  it  safely 
in  her  desk,  and  answered  Margaret's  call  to  help  prepare 
the  evening  meal. 


Samuel  decided  not  to  go  to  G'entown  that  vacation, 
thinking  after  that  letter  that  Rachel  was  musing 
favorably  of  him,  and  of  course  would  receive  him 


"A  Woman's  Love  is  Mighty."         373 

kindly,  but  had  her  reasons  for  wishing  him  to  stay  away 
that  summer. 

As  he  had  permission  now  to  write  to  her,  he  got 
along  very  well,  though  he  often  longed  for  a  sight  of  her 
beautiful  face. 

As  for  Rachel,  the  days  went  by  on  golden  wings. 
She  called  on  Mrs.  Fuller  at  Mr.  Lyons'  home,  and  was 
greatly  attracted  to  the  beautiful  Marion.  Lawrence  was 
growing  a  great  boy  with  something  of  his  mother's 
beauty  and  the  headstrong  spirit  of  his  dead  father. 

Mrs.  Lyons  was  much  improved,  and  on  ordinary 
subjects  appeared  rational,  but  constantly  looked  upon 
Lawrence  as  her  own  boy. 

Mrs.  Fuller,  before  the  cold  weather  came,  would  visit 
her  parents  at  Keene,  and  if  Mrs.  Lyons  would  agree, 
take  Lawrence  with  her. 

When  Rachel  looked  on  Justin  Lyons  and  his  wife, 
and  recalled  the  sad  tales  of  Black  Joe  and  Margaret 
Garner,  it  seemed  impossible  that  these  broken  friends 
could  have  been  the  cruel  master  and  mistress  of  whom 
she  had  heard  in  other  days.  When,  however,  she  saw 
Margaret  Garner  and  husband,  and  grown-up  children, 
now  have  positions  which  gave  them  a  comfortable 
home,  and  visited  Mrs.  Black  and  her  boys,  living  in  a 
good  tenement,  the  boys  in  school,  she  realized  how 
wondrous  must  have  been  the  change  in  a  man's  heart, 
which  could  produce  such  blessed  results. 

Florence  Noble  and  she  had  many  pleasant  hours 
together,  and  Clifford,  now  and  then,  would  meet  her, 
but  acted  very  well,  considering  that  all  his  fond  hopes 
had  been  destroyed. 

Early  in  September,  Rachel  was  back  again  in  Sea- 
view.  Samuel,  jubilant,  was  at  the  station  to  meet  her, 
and  escorted  her  to  the  boarding  hall  by  way  of  his 
father's  home,  where  Lucy,  with  a  little  girl  in  her  arms 
named  Maud,  just  six  weeks  old,  met  her  with  many  ex 
pressions  of  endearment.  The  girl  in  the  kitchen  had 
prepared  an  early  tea,  and  Miss  Rachel  must  stay  and  eat 
with  them  before  she  went  to  the  hall. 

Rachel  sought  to  excuse  herself,  but  Lucy  declared 
that  Samuel  would  feel  much  disappointed  if  she  refused, 


374  Love  and  Liberty. 

whereupon  Rachel  decided  to  stay,  and  James  looked  so 
happy,  she  felt  glad  that  she  had  consented. 

The  tea  was  an  enjoyable  meal,  and  the  food  (as 
always  at  Lucy's  home)  was  most  excellent.  After 
supper  came  music  and  games,  so  that  it  was  nine  o'cock 
before  Samuel  and  Rachel  reached  the  hall,  where  they 
met  Edith  Snow,  who  had  also  come  that  afternoon. 

The  next  Saturday  afternoon,  Samuel  and  Rachel 
went  to  walk.  It  was  a  beautiful  day ;  one  of  those 
mellow  September  days  when  nature  is  in  her  loveliest 
mood.  They  sat  down  beneath  the  trees  just  off  from 
"  Lover's  Lane,"  and  Samuel  said :  "  Rachel,  my  dear, 
I  must  tell  you  now,  that  I  love  you." 

Rachel  was  not  surprised,  but  trembled  as  Samuel  put 
his  hand  in  hers.  Her  breast  rose  and  fell,  her  eyes  were 
filled  with  a  wonderful  love-light,  her  cheeks  were  nxsy 
as  the  dawn,  and  lips  parted  just  a  little;  her  strong 
woman's  heart  thrilled  with  every  word  of  the  youthful 
lover  pleading  in  her  ear. 

"  My  darling,  I  am  not  worthy  of  you  at  all.  I  am 
poor,  and  almost  alone;  no  home,  no  position,  another 
year  at  least  of  school,  and  then  I  hardly  know  what,  but, 
Rachel,  I  love  you  more  than  I  can  tell.  It  is  no  boyish 
fancy,  but  a  deep,  abiding  love,  coming  from  my  heart. 
I  have  loved  you  since  the  first  day  I  saw  you.  I  can 
offer  you  nothing  now,  but  if  you  will  promise  to  be 
mine,  I  will  build  for  you  a  home  and  name  in  God's 
good  time  and  way." 

He  looked  into  her  beautiful  face — so  very  beautiful 
it  was  now — "  Will  you,  darling,"  putting  those  strong 
arms  about  her, — "  will  you  some  day  be  my  wife?  Do 
you  love  me  ?  " 

The  blue  eyes  read  the  answer  in  Rachel's  face,  as  she 
spoke  in  soft  low  tones,  trembling  to  that  manly  touch. 

"  Samuel,  I  love  you.  Some  day,  if  it  be  God's  good 
will,  I  will  be  your  wife." 

Then  Samuel  drew  her  face  to  his,  and  they  pledged 
with  kisses  on  the  lips  the  love  they  bore  each  other. 

Samuel  slipped  from  his  pocket  a  heavy  chased  gold 
ring  and  put  it  on  her  finger,  Rachel  blushing  all  the 
while. 


"  A  Woman's  Love  is  Mighty."          375 

They  sat  for  hours  together,  Samuel's  arms  about 
his  lovely  bride-elect,  and  spoke  of  sacred  things,  it 
seemed  to  them,  which  were  so  dear  to  both. 

They  did  not  know — and  it  is  wrell  we  do  not  know  the 
future — the  keen  and  terrible  anguish  which  would 
pierce  their  souls  like  a  sharp  sword  a  little  later. 

When  they  reached  the  Academy,  Rachel  wrote  her 
mother  that  she  and  Samuel  were  betrothed,  and  that 
she  wore  his  ring. 


376  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

THE    CALL    TO    ARMS. 

"FATHER,  father,  the  rebels  have  fired  on  Sumner !  " 

"They've  done  it  at  last,  have  they?"  exclaimed 
James  Fuller,  in  reply  to  Samuel's  announcement. 

"  It's  no  more  than  I  expected.  The  Secessionists  are 
determined  to  have  war." 

"  Yes,  there  is  great  excitement  about  the  matter  all 
over  town.  Major  Anderson  made  heroic  resistance  but 
was  compelled  to  surrender.  Here's  the  newspaper  ac 
count,"  and  Samuel  read : 

"THE  WAR  COMMENCED! 
BOMBARDMENT  OF  FORT  SUMTER 

BY  THE  REBELS ! 

MAJOR      ANDERSON      SURRENDERS      AFTER 

DESPERATE   FIGHTING   FOR   THIRTY-SIX 

HOURS !  " 

"  The  purpose  of  the  Secessionists  is  now  discovered, 
namely  to  make  war  upon  the  Union  and  separate  them 
selves  from  the  Government  by  force. 

"  Owing  to  the  armed  rebels  behind  strong  ramparts, 
the  authorities  have  been  unable  to  send  supplies  of  pro 
visions,  and  our  garrison  has  been  on  short  rations  for 
many  weeks.  They  had  bread  for  only  one  meal  when 
the  demand  came  to  surrender. 

"  Major  Anderson,  however,  answered,  'My  sense  of 
honor  and  my  obligations  to  the  Government  will  pre 
vent  my  compliance.' 

"  The  army  of  ten  thousand  Secessionists  was  op 
posed  by  only  seventy  enfeebled  men  in  our  garrison. 
Upon  Anderson's  refusal,  fire  was  opened  on  the  United 


The  Call  to  Arms.  377 

States  fort  and  flag.  Our  brave  men  held  out  for  thirty- 
six  hours  until  food  gone,  and  the  last  material  for  cart 
ridges  exhausted,  they  submitted  to  the  inevitable,  and 
surrendered.  They  were  allowed  to  retire  with  their 
personal  property  and  side  arms,  and  the  flag  which 
they  had  so  gallantly  defended,  and  which  they  saluted 
with  a  hundred  guns  before  it  was  hauled  down. 

'The  fort  was  evacuated  yesterday  (Sunday)  morn 
ing,  the  band  playing  '  Hail  Columbia  '  as  the  garrison 
went  on  board  the  transport  Isabel,  which  took  them 
to  the  United  States  ship  Baltic,  by  which  they  were 
taken  to  New  York"  Then  followed  the  associated 
press  despatches  which  gave  a  description  of  the  terrible 
fight. 

"  I've  been  fearful,  my  son,  that  war  would  come," 
said  James,  "  and  now  it  has  begun." 

"  So  have  I,  father,"  answered  Samuel.  "  The  war 
will  be  fought,  but  I  believe  freedom  will  be  secured, 
and  the  flag  really  represent  what  we  have  claimed  it 
did  represent,  equal  rights  and  liberty  to  all." 

Later  in  the  day  came  the  report  that  President  Lin 
coln  had  issued  a  call  for  seventy-five  thousand  volun 
teers  for  three  months — and  called  an  extra  session  of 
Congress  to  meet  on  the  4th  of  July. 

The  next  day  Samuel  said,  "  Father,  I  must  go.  The 
President  calls.  I  believe  in  the  call  and  in  the  holy 
cause.  I  have  been  brought  up  a  Friend,  but  I  am  no 
Friend.  I  believe  it  is  my  duty  to  defend  the  Union, 
and  perhaps  at  the  same  time  help  free  the  slaves." 

James  groaned  in  spirit ;  he  had  feared  this  very 
thing. 

"  I  am  a  peace  man,  Samuel,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Wait 
a  little,  wait,  my  boy.  You  are  all  that  is  left  to  me  of 
my  beloved  Ruth.  I  cannot  spare  you  yet.  O,  my  boy, 
be  merciful  to  your  father.  He  is  getting  on  in  years.  I 
must  not  let  you  go." 

"Father,"  said  Samuel,  "would  you  have  me  falter? 
I  have  spoken  freely  for  liberty  to  my  friends ;  would 
you  have  me  hesitate  when  the  crisis  comes?  Would 
not  mother  be  pleased  to  have  me  in  the  path  of  duty?" 

"  Your  mother  did  not  believe  in  war,  my  boy.     She 


378  Love  and  Liberty. 

was  a  Friend  and  said  that  men  should  not  resort  to 
arms. 

'  Then  there  is  Rachel,"  continued  James.  "  You 
graduate  in  June.  If  another  call  comes  after  you  grad 
uate  and  you  are  of  the  same  opinion,  then  I  will  not  say 
you  nay." 

When  James  spoke  of  Rachel,  a  thrill  went  through 
Samuel's  heart. 

These  past  few  months  since  that  September  day 
when  he  and  Rachel  were  betrothed  had  been  the  blessed 
days  of  all  his  life. 

The  love  he  had  for  her,  like  the  love  that  Jacob  had 
for  his  Rachel  centuries  before,  had  made  the  time  seem 
like  a  summer  day.  Seven  months  had  come  and  gone 
since  they  had  plighted  troth.  They  often  met  and 
Rachel  was  ever  a  welcome  guest  in  the  Fuller  home. 

At  Christmas  time  his  promised  bride  had  invited  him 
to  Glentown,  and  there  they  spent  the  holidays.  He 
never  saw  such  days  before ;  he  never  had  been  so 
happy.  Those  Aldrich  boys  and  he  became  the  best  of 
friends.  He  visited  Cousin  Marion  and  for  the  first  time 
saw  her  beautiful  face,  and  played  with  Master  Law 
rence. 

The  stately  Florence  beamed  upon  him  with  her  rich, 
dark  eyes  and  told  Miss  Rachel  that  Samuel  zvas  a  hand 
some  fellow,  if  Clif  did  hate  him. 

Samuel  with  Rachel  visited  the  colored  friends,  Mrs. 
Black  and  her  boys,  Margaret  Garner,  her  husband  and 
children,  and  were  very  glad  to  see  the  happiness  of 
those  who  had  once  been  cursed  by  the  dreadful  insti 
tution  of  slavery. 

All  through  the  winter,  he  and  Rachel  had  their 
trysting  places,  and  joyful  were  the  hours  which  they 
had  spent  together. 

When  James  mentioned  her  name,  the  father  knew 
that  he  was  urging  the  most  powerful  motive  which 
could  bear  upon  his  boy,  and  Samuel  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  parting  from  his  affianced ;  but  Samuel  also 
knew  that  Rachel  would  not  forbid  his  going,  if  duty 
called  him  away. 

Her  heart,  like  his  own,  was  all  on  fire  for  the  cause 


The  Call  to  Arms.  379 

of  truth  and  justice,  and  he  did  not  believe  that  she 
would  falter  in  the  hour  of  trial.  He  would  be  pleased 
to  graduate,  if  duty  did  not  call  him  elsewhere,  for  he 
feared  that  further  educational  advantages  would  never 
be  his  portion.  However,  duty  with  Samuel  would  come 
first  no  matter  what  the  sacrifice  might  be. 

A  few  days  later,  and  he  would  reach  his  twenty- 
first  birthday,  and  be  his  own  man, .  yet  his  conscience 
told  him  it  would  make  no  difference  to  the  estimate  in 
which  he  held  his  father. 

After  his  talk  with  James,  he  went  to  call  on  Rachel. 
Her  greeting  as  usual  was  that  of  modest  love,  and  as 
Samuel  talked  with  her,  the  color  came  and  went  upon 
her  cheeks. 

"  Rachel,  my  dear,  I  have  been  speaking  with  father 
about  enlisting  at  Lincoln's  call  for  troops." 

"So  soon,  Samuel?"  answered  she,  and  her  heart 
gave  a  throb  of  pain. 

"  You  know  that  I  believe  it  is  the  call  of  duty,  and 
though  it  would  give  me  great  sorrow  to  part  from  you 
and  father,  yet  God  knows  I  would  shrink  from  nothing 
which  He  requires." 

"  I  know,  Samuel,  your  brave  devotion  to  the  cause 
of  liberty,  and  never  would  I  say  one  word  to  turn  you 
from  the  path  which  God  directs.  What  does  your 
father  say  ?  " 

"  He  doesn't  wish  me  to  go.  Says  he's  a  peace  man, 
and  I  am  all  that  he  has  left  of  mother.  I  know  it  will 
be  like  a  dagger  to  his  heart  if  I  should  go,  but  surely 
other  sons  will  have  to  break  away  from  affection  as 
strong  as  his." 

"  Does  he  not  believe  the  cause  is  just?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  does.  He  knows  well  that  war 
must  come,  and  though  he  believes  in  peace  wherever  it 
can  honorably  be  secured,  I  feel  would  not  sacrifice  honor, 
manhood  or  liberty  in  the  interests  of  peace.  He  said 
if  I  would  stay  and  graduate,  and  wished  to  go  then 
if  I  was  needed,  he  would  offer  no  objection." 

"  May  it  not  be  best,  considering  his  wishes,  and  the 
fact  that  you  are  so  close  to  the  end  of  your  course,  to 
wait  as  he  suggests  ?  " 


380  Love  and  Liberty. 

"I  hardly  know,  my  darling,  just  what  duty  is;  I'll 
think  over  it  and  pray  about  the  matter  till  to-morrow ; 
and  now,  my  dear,  we'll  get  permission  for  a  walk.  If 
I  should  enlist,  not  many  more  of  these  delightful  days 
are  left  us." 

Permission  was  given,  and  they  wandered  o'er  the  fields 
to  that  place  where  seven  months  before  they  plighted 
troth.  It  seemed  this  April  day  that  such  a  long  time 
could  not  possibly  have  gone. 

"  O  Rachel,  glorious  months  and  days  they  have  been, 
but  I  love  you  more  if  possible,  now,  than  I  di'd  then." 

"  We  have  been  most  happy,"  answered  Rachel,  "  and 
now  the  dark  war  cloud  is  upon  us,  and  none  can  tell 
what  dreadful  days  may  come ;  but  this  we  know,  Sam 
uel,  our  love  for  each  other,  and  the  cause  of  liberty  and 
justice,  must  go  on  together.  The  one  seems  closely 
allied  to  the  other." 

"  So  be  it,"  replied  Samuel.  "  Our  lives  are  in  God's 
keeping,  and  He  knoweth  what  is  best." 

"  And  Samuel,"  spoke  Rachel,  looking  into  her  lover's 
clear  blue  eyes,  "  no  pain  or  hurt  can  come  to  you,  which 
does  not  conae  to  me.  I  am  pledged  to  you  till  death  shall 
separate  us,  as  'much  as  if  we  were  in  truth  united  in 
legal  bonds." 

"  God  bless  you,  darling,"  and  he  kissed  her  lovingly. 

The  more  Samuel  thought  the  matter  over,  the  more 
he  felt  inclined  to  yield  to  his  father's  wishes  until 
the  June  commencement, — and  this  finally  was  his 
decision. 

It  was  a  source  of  joy  to  Rachel  that  she  and  Samuel 
could  complete  the  course  together.  And  now  came  a 
friendly  rivalry  between  them,  which  should  have  the 
valedictory  address. 

They  were  both  ahead  of  all  others,  as  was  well  known. 
Rachel  had  enjoyed  superior  advantages,  and  while 
Samuel  had  been  without  early  educational  training, 
his  keen  intuition,  quick  insight,  and  studious  habits 
placed  him  in  the  lead  of  all  but  Rachel,  who  had  pressed 
him  closely.  However,  when  the  announcement  was 
made,  Samuel  was  just  far  enough  ahead  to  claim  the 
honor.  And  then  he  felt  so  badly  as  he  caught  Rachel's 


The  Call  to  Arms.  381 

eye,  that  he  groaned  within  himself  that  Rachel  had  not 
gained  the  coveted  place. 

She  had  assigned  to  her  the  salutatory  address  and 
looked  after  all,  smilingly  upon  Samuel,  who  took  fresh 
heart  and  prayed  a  silent  blessing  on  her  head. 


The  call  to  arms  was  responded  to  throughout  the 
land.     Three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  troops  enlisted 
within  fifteen  days,  to  defend  the  flag  and  the  Union. 
What  a  time  that  was  in  the  nation !     Willard  Aldrich 
met  Mr.  Goddard  that  morning  in  Glentown. 
"  They  have  fired  on  Suinner,  Mr.  Goddard." 
"  Yes,  but  this  wild  scheme  of  secession  will  soon  be 
subdued,  the  Union  must  be  preserved." 

"  Of  course  it  must  be  preserved,  but  I  fear  it  will  be 
more  difficult  to  subdue  the  South  than  most  people 
think." 

"  We'll  drive  the  rebels  to  bay  in  three  months." 
"  Mr.  Goddard,  you  are  mistaken.  The  Southerners 
have  everything  at  present  in  their  own  hands.  Most  of 
the  cabinet  of  Buchanan  proved  to  be  traitors,  and  have 
placed  the  Government  at  great  disadvantage.  Our  mu 
nitions  of  war  have  been  turned  over  to  the  conspira 
tors  ;  our  army  scattered  in  the  west,  our  navy  sent  to  the 
four  corners  of  the  globe,  our  treasury  depleted,  and 
the  larger  part  of  the  forts  and  arsenals  are  in  the  hands 
of  the  Southerners.  Some  of  these  men  have  planned 
for  twenty  or  thirty  years  the  very  condition  of  things 
which  has  now  come  to  pass." 

"  You  look  on  the  dark  side,  Mr.  Aldrich." 
"  No  darker  than  the  facts  warrant,  sir.  The  awful 
curse  of  slavery  is  beneath  this  secession  movement. 
Those  Southerners  are  fighting  for  the  life  of  the  insti 
tution  of  slavery,  and  will  not  yield  until  they  are  forced 
to  it,  unless  provisions  are  made  to  allow  their  ideas  full 
con'trol  'in  the  nation.  It  is  the  pet  purpose  of  the 
leaders  to  found  a  slaveholding  oligarchy  which  shall 
perpetuate  the  infamous  thraldom  of  the  negro  race." 
Glentown  furnished  her  full  quota  of  volunteers,  and 
more. 


382  Love  and  Liberty. 

In  Ashton,  Joe  Slocum  carried  the  tidings  to  stately 
Bess. 

'*  Bess,  my  dear,  the  President  calls  for  volunteers 
to  put  down  the  rebellion.  It's  a  just  cause.  The  flag 
has  been  fired  upon,  the  banner  we  love  insulted.  I  must 

go." 

"  O,  Joe!  how  can  I  have  it  so?  You're  almost  too 
old ;  perhaps  they  won't  take  you ;"  but  Joe  smiled. 

"  No  danger,  Bess,  I'll  raise  a  company.  I'm  strong 
as  an  ox.  Somebody  must  go,  and  I  shall  do  my  duty." 

They  made  Joe  Slocum  Captain ;  he  raised  a  company 
at  once;  then  came  the  day  when  he  must  leave  his  wife 
and  children,  and  parents,  and  start  for  the  front. 

Bess  Slocum,  in  whose  soul  burned  the  patriotic  fire, 
had  risen  to  the  crisis  of  the  hour.  Joe,  her  faithful  hus 
band,  was  going  to  the  war.  Men  were  needed  at  the 
front,  and  only  God  knew  if  they  would  ever  come  back. 
The  North  \\as  in  tears,  but  stern  and  skrong  as  well, 
while  the  heroic  spirit  of  wives  and  mothers  rose  out  of 
their  anguish  to  encourage  the  loved  ones  starting  for 
the  battle-fields  of  the  sunny  South. 

On  that  day  of  parting,  Bess  said :  "  Go,  Joe,  and  God 
be  with  you.  I'll  look  out  for  the  farm  with  the  help  of 
the  boys.  I'll  take  in  sewing  if  need  be  to  keep  things 
going;  I'll  care  for  the  children  the  best  I  can  while 
you're  away,  and  we'll  send  you  packages  of  clothing  and 
good  things  now  and  then.  We'll  write  to  each  other, 
and  I'll  keep  you  posted  how  we  get  on.  We'll  pray  for 
you,  Joe,  the  children  and  I,  every  morning  and  night 
in  this  room.  And,  Joe,  take  that  little  Bible  your 
mother  gave  you  so  long  ago,  when  you  were  a  boy,  and 
don't  forget  to  read  it,  my  husband,  by  the  camp-fire  or 
the  morning  light ;  and  may  our  loving  Heavenly  Father 
bring  you  safely  home,  if  it  be  His  will." 

And  Joe,  through  his  blinding  tears,  said :  "  I'll  prom 
ise,  with  the  help  of  God,  to  do  the  best  I  can." 

Then  little  Bess  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
hugged  him  tightly,  kissing  him  again  and  again.  She 
was  fifteen  years  old  and  a  tall  young  Miss,  but  always 
went  by  the  name  of  "  Little  Bess." 


The  call  to  Arms.  383 

Freddie  and  Johnny,  the  younger  children,  cried  as  if 
their  hearts  would  break. 

The  matronly  Bess,  his  loving  wife,  held  Joe  in  a  last 
fond  close  embrace,  raining  sweet  kisses  on  his  face,  and 
lie,  kissing  them  all,  including  his  mother  and  the  white- 
haired  Judge,  with  loving  good-byes,  tore  himself  away 
from  all  their  love,  and  went  to  lead  his  men  to  battle  for 
the  nation  and  the  flag. 

"  Joe,  my  boy,"  shouted  his  father  after  him,  "  I 
never  expect  to  see  yo  again,  but  the  slaves  will  be 
freed  and  I'll  meet  you  on  the  other  shore  " 

Then  they  went  to  the  place,  where  a  little  later  Joe 
proudly  marched  his  men  toward  the  station.  He  smiled 
upon  them  all  again,  and  waved  his  last  good-by,  and  the 
loved  ones  were  left  alone ;  yet  not  alone,  for  there  was 
One,  the  Father  of  the  fatherless  and  the  widow's  God, 
who  watched  over  the  home  while  Joe  was  away. 


384  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

COMMENCEMENT    AT    SEAVIEW. 

THAT  June  graduation  in  1861  at  the  famous  board 
ing  school,  was  a  memorable  occasion. 

The  Principal  had,  with  difficulty,  held  his  young  men 
till  the  close  of  the  term,  and  some  had  even  run  away 
and  enlisted  for  the  war,  unknown  to  their  parents. 

Samuel,  despite  his  resolution,  was  very  uneasy, 
though  after  telling  his  father  his  decision,  he  stood  by 
his  promise. 

Throwing  himself  as  well  as  his  disturbed  mind  would 
allow  into  the  studies  before  him,  he  sought  to  gain  all 
the  knowledge  possible  within  the  allotted  time.  I  will 
tell  you  that  Samuel  had  a  secret  hope  of  some  day"  be 
coming  an  author.  His  ready  mind  grasped  great  prin 
ciples,  and  his  vivid  imagination  was  well  fitted  for  the 
work  upon  which  he  had  set  his  heart.  He  had  written 
various  articles  for  different  papers  and  magazines, 
some  of  which  had  been  rejected  and  others  printed ;  just 
enough  printed  to  keep  up  courage  in  what  many  would 
regard  as  a  forlorn  hope. 

The  great  day  at  length  arrived.  The  town  was  all 
astir.  Commencement  week  was  the  great  event  of  the 
whole  county.  People  came  to  hear  the  Sunday  sermons 
by  noted  preachers,  and  alumni  came  back  to  Alma 
Mater  for  the  festive  week  of  joyous  reunion. 

The  large  chapel  was  beautifully  decorated.  Ushers 
with  their  silk  badges  escorted  the  audience  to  seats. 
The  orchestra  rendered  delightful  music.  The  Latin 
salutatory  by  Miss  Aldrich  was  well  received,  but  as 
many  could  not  understand  it,  they  waited  anxiously 
for  her  essay,  which  would  be  given  later. 

The  young  lady   graduates   in  their   beautiful   white 


Commencement  at  Seaview.  385 

dresses  and  elegant  trimmings,  with  fragrant  flowers, 
were  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  The  young  gentlemen, 
with  their  best  suits,  some  of  them  perhaps  not  of  the 
latest  pattern,  nevertheless  appeared  to  good  advantage, 
and  attracted  attention. 

The  essays,  orations  and  musical  selections  were  of  a 
high  order,  and  the  large  audience  greeted  each  speaker 
with  applause,  and  bouquets  were  given  by  partial 
friends  to  each  participant  on  the  happy  occasion. 

There  is  no  denying  the  fact  that  more  interest  cen 
tered  in  Rachel  Aldrich  and  Samuel  Fuller  than  in  any 
others  of  the  graduates  that  day. 

There  were  several  reasons  for  this.  They  were  both 
older  than  the  average  graduate.  The  reader  under 
stands  how  this  came  about.  Rachel,  because  her  par 
ents  would  not  allow  her  before  she  was  eighteen  to  go 
away  from  home,  and  Samuel,  because  deprived  of  those 
youthful  opportunities  which  many  young  men  enjoy. 

The  development  of  intellect  had,  of  course,  been 
greater  than  in  the  case  of  some  others  who  had  finished 
the  same  course,  and  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  from 
a  general  point  of  view  also  larger. 

Samuel  had  covered  much  of  the  ground  in  several 
courses  and  was  strong  in  all.  In  the  department  of 
literature,  no  one  among  the  students  could  approach 
him  in  ability. 

Rachel  had  studied  more  of  the  sciences  than  most 
young  ladies,  besides  leading  all  except  Samuel  in  the 
classical  course.  Owing  to  these  facts  which  were  gener 
ally  known,  abler  presentation  of  subjects  in  essay  and 
oration  was  expected  from  them  than  from  the  others. 

The  fact  of  their  betrothal  was  also  known,  which 
added  interest  to  them  both.  Their  interest  in  the  Abo 
lition  of  the  slaves  and  strong  optimistic  faith  that  the 
war,  which  was  Upon  the  nation,  would  result  in  univer 
sal  freedom,  was  no  secret  to  the  faculty  and  students, 
and  many  of  the  town's  people. 

Then  each  of  them  to  unprejudiced  persons  had  a 
most  attractive  personality.  It  is  true  that  some  of  the 
young  ladies  had  never  gotten  over  their  jealousy  of 
Rachel,  while  Edwards  and  his  gang  would  never  for- 

25 


386  Love  and  Liberty. 

give  Samuel  for  not  allowing  them  to  frighten  and  injure 
him  in  the  haunted  house. 

Poor  Edwards  had  a  scar  upon  his  head  which  would 
probably  always  remain  as  the  souvenir  of  the  knuckles 
of  the  young  Hercules. 

He  often  looked  askance  at  a  distance  at  Samuel's 
white  hands,  and  wondered  if  he  had  struck  him  with  his 
fist  or  some  dreadful  piece  of  metal  on  that  eventful 
night.  "  They  don't  look  so  dreadful,"  sighed  the  bully. 

However,  he  had  shown  no  disposition  to  tempt  their 
owner  to  further  use  upon  his  person. 

Rachel  to  most  people  appeared  the  type  of  remarka 
ble  beauty.  With  all  her  perfection  of  form,  dignity  of 
bearing,  fine  features  as  if  chiseled  by  the  hand  of  some 
Greek  artist,  bright  color  and  laughing  eyes,  with  dark, 
luxuriant  hair  which  fell  in  curls  about  her  neck, — a 
neck  which  Greene  ,said  was  surely  equal  in  beauty  to 
any  the  Greek  Phidias  ever  wrought  from  marble, — 
with  all  these,  there  was  a  piquant,  bewitching  way 
which  gave  to  her  such  a  winning  manner  that  few  could 
resist  her  charms. 

Samuel  might  almost  have  posed  as  a  model  for  some 
Greek  master.  He  was  above  the  medium  height  with 
beardless  face, — he  purposely  had  kept  clean  shaved  till 
after  commencement, — a  rougish  twinkle  in  those  ex 
pressive  deep  blue  eye  and  a  look  upon  his  countenance 
which  took  good  people  at  once  into  his  confidence. 
Those  acquainted  with  him  knew  that  he  was  a  hot-tem 
pered  young  man  whom  it  would  not  do  to  trifle  with  too 
far,  but  when  in  perfect  poise,  no  one  could  wish  a  kinder 
heart  than  Mr.  Samuel  revealed. 

His  strong,  outspoken  defense  of  the  "  under  man  " 
was  well  known ;  his  quick,  nervous,  agile  step  marked 
him  as  a  young  man  of  energy  and  purpose  which  would 
not  lightly  yield  to  opposition. 

To-day  his  countenance  is  quiet  but  joyful,  for  it  is 
the  only  epochal  day  of  public  life  which  he  has  ex 
perienced. 

His  mind  is  filled  with  many  thoughts.  He  thinks  of 
his  mother  now  in  heaven,  and  wonders  if  she  looks  upon 
him  this  hour.  Of  his  father  over  in  that  seat  beside 


Commencement  at  Seaview.  387 

his  Lucy,  who  is  finely  dressed  for  this  eventful  day  ;  of 
Rachel,  sitting  hy  his  side  on  the  spacious  rostrum,  filling 
every  nook  of  his  heart  with  purest  love ;  and  then  he 
thinks  that  ere  many  days  are  passed,  a  different  scene 
will  be  presented,  for  he  is  soon  to  go  forth  to  the  terrible 
tempest  of  war. 

Willard  Aldrich  and  Margaret  are  watching  him  from 
their  seats. 

"  A  manly  young  fellow,"  thought  Margaret. 

Marion  Fuller  is  there,  at  Samuel's  urgent  invitation, 
sitting  beside  Mistress  Lucy.  Among  the  conspicuous 
visitors  is  Congressman  Noble  at  Willard's  request. 
And  there  sits  Tom  Smith  beside  James,  taking  in  all  the 
wonders  of  the  great  day. 

"  Jim  Fuller,  you've  got  a  handsome  boy,  by  gum," 
whispered  Tom. 

The  Principal  is  speaking. 

"  Essay,  '  The  Progress  of  Freedom,'  by  Miss  Rachel 
Aldrich." 

The  expectation  is  intense.  A  perfect  hush  falls  over 
the  great  assembly,  and  Rachel  steps  forward  in  all  the 
bewilderment  of  her  many  charms.  She  is  dressed  in  a 
rich  white  silk,  with  beautiful  lace  trimmings  and  rib 
bons  to  match,  and  at  her  breast  is  pinned  Samuel's 
present  of  blush  roses.  On  her  finger  glistens  the  be 
trothal  ring.  She  holds  her  manuscript  easily,  and  with 
clear  voice,  begins  her  essay. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  give  the  full  address  to  our 
readers,  though  it  is  worthy  of  perusal. 

She  pictured  the  early  beginnings  of  freedom-loving 
spirits  of  olden  times,  traced  the  gradual  progress  and 
desire  for  liberty  through  medieval  days,  maintained 
that  God  created  all  men  with  equal  rights  to  political 
and  religious  freedom.  She  mentioned  the  revolutions 
of  Europe,  Cromwell  and  the  Commonwealth,  the  cry 
from  groaning  France,  the  manumission  of  English 
slaves  in  the  West  Indies.  She  referred  to  Toussaunt 
L'Overture  of  St.  Domingo,  and  then  turning  to  our  own 
land,  said : 

"  In  this  land,  which  we  call  the  home  of  the  free,  and 
which  is  extolled  as  an  asvlum  for  all  classes  of  Euro- 


388  Love  and  Liberty. 

pean  nations,  there  is  to-day  the  most  oppressive  thral 
dom  which  ever  disgraced  a  nation.  Our  fellow  country 
men  are  in  chains  ;  mothers  cannot  call  their  children  their 
own ;  wives  have  no  right  to  their  hushands ;  the  slave 
groans  under  the  hand  of  the  oppressor,  for  no  crime 
except  the  color  of  his  skin.  You  who  have  rested  in  com 
fort  and  ease,  begin  to  awake  to  the  fearful  outcome  of 
this  terrible  traffic  in  human  flesh.  We  shall  have  to 
suffer  for  the  sin  we  have  committed  in  allowing  this 
rampant  iniquity  to  obtain  such  strength  within  our 
borders.  But  the  day  of  hope  for  the  slaves  of  America 
has  now  come.  We  have  had  among  us  a  noble  band  of 
men  and  women,  who  without  fear  or  favor  have  con 
tended  for  many  years  that  slavery  was  wholly  wrong  in 
principle  and  practice.  In  that  fearless  company,  often 
times  exposed  to  ridicule,  and  the  sneers  of  the  so-called 
great,  none  have  been  more  brave  than  the  heroic 


WENDELL   PHILLIPS. 

lie  stood  upon  the  world's  threshold,  wide 

The  din  of  battle  and  of  slaughter  rose; 
He  saw  God  stand  upon  the  weaker  side, 

That  sank  in  seeming  loss  before  its  foes  ; 
Many  there  were  who  made  great  haste  and  sold 

Unto  the  cunning  enemy  their  swords, 
He  scorned  their  gifts  of  fame,  and  power  and  gold, 

And  underneath  their  soft  and  flowery  words, 
Heard  the  cold  serpent  hiss  ;  therefore  he  went 

And  humbly  joined  him  to  the  weaker  part. 
P'anatic  named,  and  fool,  yet  well  content 

So  he  could  be  the  nearer  to  dod's  heart, 
And  feel  its  solemn  pulses  sending  blood 
Through  all  the  wide-spread  veins  of  endless  good." 


"  What  this  brave  man  and  his  coadjutors  have  con 
tended  for,  will  surely  come  to  pass.  Even  now,  above 
the  hoarse  din  of  battle  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded,  I 
hear  the  voice  of  God  calling  men  to  the  largest  freedom, 
and  He  will  not  rest  till  that  flag  which  we  love  so  well 
shall  wave  over  a  united  people,  with  the  curse  of  slavery 
erased  from  our  national  escutcheon.  With  Whittier,  we 
may  say  to-day : 


Commencement  at  Seaview.  389 

"  I  dreamed  of  freedom  slowly  gained, 

By  martyr  meekness,  patience,  faith, 
When  io  !  an  athlete  grimly  stained 
With  corded  muscles  battle  strained 
Shouting  it  from  the  field  of  death. 

"  Yet  surely  as  God  lives,  the  day  of  peace 

He  promised  shall  be  ours 
To  fold  the  flags  of  war  and  lay 
Its  sword  and  spear  to  rust  away, 

And  sow  its  ghastly  fields  with  flowers." 

Rachel  ceased  and  bowed.  The  audience  broke  into 
wild  applause ;  bouquet  after  bouquet  was  presented  to 
the  charming  woman. 

Her  beauty,  her  impassioned  delivery,  the  theme  she 
had  chosen,  with  its  appropriateness  at  that  time,  con 
taining-  a  picture  of  the  day  when  freedom  and  peace 
should  be  triumphant,  moved  all  hearts. 

As  for  Willard,  his  face  glowed  with  tumultuous  joy. 

Margaret,  as  usual  under  eloquent  speaking,  was  spell 
bound.  "  And  that  is  Rachel,"  she  thought.  "  My 
daughter.  God  bless  her !  God  bless  her !  "  she  mur 
mured,  and  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

"Jim  Fuller,  is  that  the  girl  Samuel  is  to  marry?" 
whispered  Tom. 

'  The  very  same,"  replied  James. 

'  Glory  halleluiah ;  she  beats  anything  in  Wilksville," 
said  Tom. 

"  Hush,"  answered  James.  And  now  the  Principal 
rises  again. 

"  Oration,  '  The  Grandeur  of  Opportunity/  with  val- 
edictorv  addresses,  Samuel  Fuller." 

Samuel  steps  forward.  He  has  been  thrilled  with 
Rachel's  essay.  Sometimes,  during  the  progress  of  de 
livery,  he  could  scarcely  control  himselr.  Every  word 
struck  a  responsive  chord  in  his  own  soul,  and  Rachel, 
mark  you,  was  his  own  promised  bride. 

At  the  mention  of  his  name,  however,  he  collected 
himself  as  well  as  he  was  able.  His  oration  was  well 
committed,  and  he  had  rehearsed  it  many  times.  It 
began  as  follows : 

"  Victor  Hugo,  in  that  great  work,  '  Les  Miserables,' 
just  issued  from  the  press,  in  estimating  the  cause  and 


390  Love  and  Liberty. 

results  of  Napoleon's  defeat  at  Waterloo,  asks  this  ques 
tion:  'Was  it  possible  for  Napoleon  to  win  the  battle?' 
He  answered  in  the  negative,  not  wholly  on  account  of 
Wellington,  nor  on  account  of  Blucher,  but  on  account 
of  God.  '  Bonaparte  victorious  at  Waterloo  did  not  har 
monize  with  the  law  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Napo 
leon  had  been  denounced  in  infinitude,  and  his  fall  was 
decided.  Waterloo  was  not  a  battle,  but  a  transforma 
tion  of  the  Universe.'  Something  similar  may  be  said 
concerning  the  cause,  and  the  result  of  this  war  which 
has  begun  in  our  loved  country.  Whatever  may  be  its 
length,  its  bitterness  or  its  sorrow,  there  can  only  be  one 
final  outcome  to  it.  It  is  not  in  harmony  with  the  law  of 
human  progress,  that  a  Southern  oligarchy,  with  its  cor 
ner-stone,  human  s'avery,  should  be  founded  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  In  the  infinite  counsels  of 
the  God  of  heaven,  the  fall  of  the  Southern  Confederacy 
is  already  decided.  Yet  it  is  possible  that  it  may  be 
months  or  years  before  that  fall  shall  come.  The  result 
must  be  accomplished  as  is  God's  method,  by  human  in 
strumentality,  even  if  it  be  through  sorrow  and  suffer 
ing,  that  we  prosecute  the  war  to  a  successful  issue. 

"  To-day  we  are  under  the  curse  of  a  system  which 
blights  all  the  nobler  elements  of  true  manhood.  He 
who  enslaves  another  guiltless  man  debases  his  own  na 
ture,  and  while  the  groaning  bondman  legally  exists 
under  the  folds  of  that  banner  which  floats  above,  us,  we 
have  no  right  to  call  ourselves  a  free  people. 

"  Freedom  is  re-created  year  by  year 

In  hearts  wide  open  on  the  Godward  side, 
In  souls  calm  cadenced  as  the  whirling;  sphere, 

In  minds  that  sway  the  future  like  a  tide. 
No  broadcast  creeds  can  hold  her,  and  no  codes ; 
She  chooses  men  for  her  august  abodes, 
Building  them  fair  and  fronting  to  the  dawn  ; 

Yet  when  we  seek  her,  we  but  find  a  few 
Light  foot-prints,  leading  morn-ward  through  the  dew. 

Before  the  day  had  risen,  she  was  gone." 

"  Freedom,  my  friends,  has  gone  from  us.  We  have 
bidden  her  take  herself  away,  and  yet  this  land,  relieved 
from  tyranny  and  oppression,  presents  the  grandest 
arena  for  heroic  endeavor  which  the  world  has  ever  seen. 


Commencement  at  Seaview.  391 

Like  the  promised  land  of  the  Israelites,  it  is  a  goodly 
land,  of  dates  and  grapes,  pomegranates  and  figs,  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey. 

"  A  land  of  corn  and  wine  and  oil, 
Favored  with  God's  peculiar  smile, 
With  every  blessing  blest." 

"  Compared  with  that  land,  it  has  larger  domain,  lof- 
tler  mountain  heights,  more  beautiful  lakes  and  rivers, 
richer  soil  and  resources,  greater  variety  of  production, 
and  more  numerous  inhabitants.  There  are  marvelous 
opportunities  for  old  and  young,  of  every  nationality 
except  one,  to  secure  comfort  and  wealth,  position  and 
worldl,}'  advantage.  Neither  Greece  nor'  Rome  in  their 
palmiest  days  contained  such  advantages  for  self-devel 
opment  and  genuine  success. 

"  There  is  a  grandeur  of  opportunity  which  will  open 
before  this  nation  when  she  shall  shake  herself  from  the 
dust  and  put  on  the  beautiful  garments  of  freedom  and 
righteousness. 

"  Secretary  Seward  has  said  of  the  fugitive  slave  law : 
'  Above  all  acts  of  Congress,  there  is  a  Higher  Law, — a 
divine  law  of  justice  and  freedom  which  compels  us 
through  conscience,  not  to  obey  the  Government  and  not 
to  return  the  fugitive  to  his  Master.' 

"  And  so,  above  any  law  which  men  may  make  that 
interferes  with  the  rights  of  man,  there  is  always  this 
Higher  Lazv,  which  has  the  conscientious  obedience  of  all 
true  men,  and  this  Higher  Lau1  demand.;  that  the  curse 
of  slavery  shall  be  done  away  in  all  the  earth,  while  uni 
versal  liberty  and  justice  become  the  heritage  of  every 
race." 

Samuel  carried  his  hearers  with  him  in  a  grand  burst 
of  oratory,  swaying  every  heart  in  the  audience  with  his 
appeals  for  universal  freedom,  and  closed  with  the  fol 
lowing  words : 

"  In  yonder  White  House  sits  our  honored  President, 
with  a  burden  almost  as  heavy  as  Atlas  carried  on  his 
shoulders.  The  clarions  of  war  are  ringing  across  the 
continent,  and  his  heart  is  full  of  pain.  But  this  man 
with  loving  soul,  ready  wit  and  great  intellect,  believing 


392  Love  and  Liberty. 

in  the  rights  of  all  men,  I  prophesy  will  yet  do  a  deed 
which  shall  make  tyrants  tremble.  It  is  true  he  has  as 
sumed  the  great  office,  resolved  not  to  interfere  with 
slavery  where  it  already  exists,  but  he  will  find  as  the 
war  progresses  that  slavery  is  not  only  its  real  cause, 
but  also  the  main  strength  of  those  in  arms  against  the 
Union.  And  when  this  fact  gets  possession  of  his  great 
heart  and  mind,  Abraham  Lincoln,  '  dipping  his  pen  in 
the  sunlight,'  will  write  a  proclamation  that  will  settle 
forever  the  freedom  of  the  colored  race  within  our  bor 
ders.  Then  our  country,  rising  to  the  grandeur  of  op 
portunity  before  her,  will  launch  out  into  the  sea  of  prog 
ress  which  will  astonish  the  world,  and  that  flag  (point 
ing  to  the  banner  whose  ample  folds  were  looped  above 
his  head)  shall  wave  in  triumph  from  shore  to  shor-?, 
and  from  the  Canadas  to  the  Gulf,  with  no  pollution  on 
its  fair  folds  !  " 

There  the  young  orator,  strong  and  beautiful,  closed 
his  burning  prophecy  of  coming  glorious  days. 

James  looked  upon  his  son  (Ruth's  boy)  ;  the  tears, 
like  rain,  ran  down  his  face :  his  eyes  grew  dim ;  his  soul 
was  on  fire ;  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  could  control 
his  emotion.  Lucy  slipped  her  arm  into  his,  and  smiled 
kindly  in  his  face. 

Rachel's  eyes  were  moist,  but  such  a  look  of  loving 
pride  has  rarely  graced  a  woman's  face. 

Tom  Smith  twisted  about  a  little  and  whispered : 

"  Jim,  Jim,  he  did  well,  by  gum." 

Marion  felt  very  proud  and  happy  over  Cousin  Samuel. 

As  Samuel  finished,  thunderous  applause  broke  from 
the  audience,  and  showers  of  bouquets  fell  at  his  feet. 

Greene  sprang  from  his  seat  and  shouted :  "  Three 
cheers  for  the  cause  of  Union  and  liberty."  And  that 
audience  rang  out  in  three  wild  cheers,  which  fairly 
shook  the  room.  Men  rose  in  their  seats,  and  women 
waved  their  handkerchiefs  amidst  great  commotion. 

The  Principal  was  utterly  powerless  to  control  the 
demonstration. 

Our  readers  will  bear  in  mind  that  it  was  in  June, 
1 86 1,  when  the  patriotism  of  the  North  was  in  the  full 
tide  of  enthusiasm. 


Commencement  at  Seaview.  393 

When  quiet  had  been  restored,  Samuel  proceeded  to 
give  the  valedictory  addresses,  after  which  another  storm 
of  applause  greeted  him  as  he  resumed  his  seat. 

Then  followed  the  Principal's  address,  presentation  of 
diplomas,  stirring,  patriotic  music  by  the  orchestra,  and 
the  assembly  was  dismissed. 

Samuel  and  Rachel,  side  by  side,  were  the  recipients 
of  many  congratulations,  and  Samuel  said  he  demon 
strated  that  day  his  Quaker  origin,  for  he  shook  hands 
till  his  arm  fairly  ached. 

Under  a  great  tent  on  the  campus  was  served  the 
alumni  dinner,  where  it  was  announced  that  Samuel 
Fuller  had  obtained  the  prize  for  the  best  oration,  and 
Miss  Rachel  Aldrich  for  the  finest  essay. 

These  announcements  led  to  another  demonstration  of 
applause,  as  the  successful  competitors  modestly  re 
ceived  the  prizes. 

In  the  afternoon,  at  the  home  of  James  Fuller,  was  an 
assembly  of  family  and  friends,  in  which  could  be  seen 
Willard  and  Margaret  with  beaming  faces,  and  James 
and  Lucy  entertaining  them  to  the  best  of  their  ability, 
while  Samuel  and  Rachel  were  the  merriest  young  couple 
that  ever  graced  a  home. 

Tom  Smith,  with  Mrs.  Sadie  Jones,  full  of  wit  and 
pleasantry,  helped  for  that  one  day  to  drive  dull  care 
away  from  every  heart. 

"  Do  you  hear  from  Joe  Slocum?  "  asked  James. 

"  Yes,  doing  well,  and  writes  Bess  cheery  letters," 
answered  Tom.  "  Jimmie  boy  is  wild  to  go  to  war ;  I 
can't  hold  him  back  much  longer." 


394  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

THE     STORM     OF     WAR. 

WHEN  President  Lincoln  issued  hi:,  call  on  April  15, 
for  seventy-five  thousand  troops,  four  hundred  Penn 
sylvania  volunteers  were  the  first  to  reach  Washington. 
Horace  Fuller  from  Philadelphia,  captain  of  a  company, 
was  one  of  them.  They  arrived  in  Washington  at  10 
o'clock  in  the  night,  April  18. 

The  following  day  was  a  memorable  day  to  the  coun 
try.  The  Sixth  Massachusetts  regiment  passed  through 
Baltimore.  In  that  regiment  were  Chester  Xye,  Truman 
Goddard,  Tim  Quinn  and  A.  O.  Whitney,  all  from  Glen- 
town. 

That  Massachusetts  despatched  troops  so  quickly  was 
owing  to  the  masterly  intuition  of  Governor  Andrew 
and  the  great  energy  of  Massachusetts  men.  As  early 
as  January,  the  Governor  had  secured  enrollment  of  the 
various  militia  companies,  who  could  respond  immedi 
ately  in  case  of  war,  and  on  April  3,  had  induced  the 
Legislature  to  pass  a  bill  appropriating  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars  for  military  supplies. 

The  measure  was  ridiculed  by  many,  but  its  wisdom 
was  soon  apparent. 

The  Sixth  Massachusetts  met  in  Baltimore  a  regiment 
from  Philadelphia.  The  former  were  partially  armed, 
owing  to  Governor  Andrew's  forethought,  but  the  Phila 
delphia  men  were  not.  The  Massachusetts  regiment  oc 
cupied  eleven  cars,  and  had  to  pass  through  the  slave- 
holding  city,  the  cars  drawn  by  horses  two  and  a  half 
miles.  Xine  of  the  cars  passed  in  safety,  though  the  men 
were  basely  insulted  all  the  way,  with  curses,  brick-bats 
and  stones. 

Ten  thousand  persons  were  in  the  mob,  though  the  act 
ive  rioters  were  probably  not  more  than  two  hundred. 


The  Storm  of  War.  395 

They  arrested  the  progress  of  the  last  two  cars,  which 
contained  about  one  hundred  men.  It  was  a  perilous 
time;  a  terrible  scene  of  clamor  and  uproar,  with  no 
police  power  to  arrest  the  rioters.  The  rails  were  torn 
up,  a  secession  flag  waved  in  the  Union  men's  faces,  ac 
companied  with  curses  for  the  Union  and  huzzas  for  the 
Confederacy.  The  Massachusetts  boys,  with  much  ef 
fort,  remained  cool  and  calm.  Captain  Follansbee  had 
them  leave  the  cars,  form  into  a  solid  square  and  ad 
vance  rapidly  with  fixed  bayonets  through  the  streets 
to  the  station.  The  furious  mob  from  street,  housetops 
and  windows  assailed  them  with  stones  and  bricks  and 
occasional  pistol  shots.  Our  friends  from  Glentown 
realized  their  imminent  peril.  ''  They're  a  tough  crowd," 
said  Goddard  to  young  Whitney. 

"  Goddird,"  replied  Whitney,  "  if  anything  happens 
to  me,  tell  mother  I  died  at  my  post." 

"  Certainly,  my  boy,  but  brace  up,  we're  almost  there 
now,"  answered  his  companion. 

As  the  column  staggered  along,  some  of  them  bleed 
ing,  a  burly  fellow  came  up  to  Whitney,  and  before  the 
boy  realised  the  man's  purpose,  seized  his  musket,  and 
fired  it  full  into  Whitney's  heart.  The  poor  fellow  stag 
gered  and  fell  with  a  groan.  Tim  Quinn  raised  his  mus 
ket  and  shot  the  man  dead  in  his  tracks. 

"  Take  that,  ye  infernal  rebel,  be  gorry, '  yelled  Tim. 
"  God  have  mercy  on  the  sowl  of  poor  Whitney,"  he 
continued  as  he  pressed  on. 

A  rioter  came  along  with  three  stones  under  his  arm 
and  one  in  his  hand,  pelting  the  soldiers  fearfully.  Ches 
ter  Xye  dropped  him  with  a  bullet  from  his  gun. 

Then  a  shiver  ran  over  him  as  he  thought  possibly  he 
might  have  taken  a  human  life.  The  Union  men  sought 
to  avoid  taking  life,  and  fought  their  way  foot  by  foot, 
till  they  finally  reached  the  station.  Tliey  discovered 
that  two  men  had  been  killed  in  the  passage  through  the 
city,  young  Whitney  and  Luther  Crawford  Ladd,  the  lat 
ter  only  seventeen  years  old.  His  friends  had  urged  him 
not  to  go.  He  answered,  "  I  shall  go  for  the  stars  and 
stripes  anyway." 

Several  other  men  were  severely  wounded.     Seven  of 


396  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  rioters  were  killed  and  many  wounded.  Governor 
Andrew  of  Massachusetts  sent  the  following  telegraphic 
despatch  to  the  mayor  of  Baltimore : 

"  1  pray  you  cause  the  bodies  of  our  soldiers  dead  in 
Baltimore  to  be  immediately  packed  in  ice,  and  tenderly 
sent  forward  by  express  to  me.  All  expenses  will  be 
paid  by  this  Commonwealth." 

When  the  people  read  that  despatch,  tears  sprang  into 
ten  thousand  eyes.  The  Pennsylvania  men  were  without 
arms,  and  seeing  the  fury  of  the  mob,  decided  to  return 
to  Philadelphia.  When  the  Massachusetts  Sixth  reached 
Washington,  and  entered  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  patriots 
greeted  them  with  great  enthusiasm.  They  brought  the 
tidings  that  the  North  was  thoroughly  aroused,  and 
would  soon  be  in  Washington  by  tens  of  thousands  for 
the  protection  of  the  flag  and  the  Union.  The  country 
was  surprised  at  the  energy  of  Massachusetts  men. 
When  the  Albany  Evening  Journal  pronounced  this 
eulogy,  there  was  no  dissent : 

"  Massachusetts  was  the  first  to  start  a  regiment  for 
Washington.  Massachusetts  blood  was  the  first  shed  in 
the  war ;  a  Massachusetts  regiment  was  the  first  to  re 
inforce  Fort  Monroe;  the  first  to  open  a  pathway  to  the 
Capitol,  and  the  first  to  invade  Virginia.  God  bless  the 
Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts." 

Mrs.  Jesse  Fuller  had,  at  Marion's  request,  visited 
Glentown,  and  was  there  when  the  call  came  for  troops. 

Jesse  wrote  her  that  he  had  received  word  that  Horace 
had  enlisted,  and  that  four  of  their  other  boys  had  al 
ready  volunteered  for  service. 

She  sat  down  and  wrote  that  night: 

"Mv  DEAR   HUSBAND: — 

"  Your  letter  came  last  evening.  I  was  startled  by  the 
news  referring  to  our  boys,  and  at  first  felt  as  if  a  ball 
had  pierced  my  own  heart.  For  the  first  time  I  was 
obliged  to  look  things  full  in  the  face. 

"  But  although  I  have  loved  my  children  with  a  love 
that  none  but  a  mother  can  know,  yet  when  I  look  upon 


The  Storm  of  War.  397 

the  state  of  my  country,  I  cannot  withhold  them ;  and  in 
the  name  of  their  mother's  God,  I  bid  them  go.  If  I 
had  ten  thousand  sons  instead  of  five,  I  would  give  them 
all,  sooner  than  have  our  country  rent  in  fragments. 

"  May  God  strengthen  us,  and  nerve  us  for  the  conflict 
and  enable  us  to  say,  Whatever  Thou  requirest,  that  will 
I  cheerfully  give  and  do.  May  he  bless  and  protect  our 
dear  children,  and  bring  them  safely  home. 

"  I  hope  you  will  provide  them  each  a  Bible,  and  give 
them  their  mother's  love  and  blessing.  Tell  them  our 
prayers  will  accompany  them,  and  ascend  on  their  behalf 
night  and  day. 

"  Your  loving  wife, 

"  SARAH  FULLER." 


When  the  news  of  the  fall  of  Sumter  reached  Rhode 
Island,  Governor  Sprague  tendered  a  regiment  of  one 
thousand  men  to  the  President,  himself  at  its  head,  and 
a  battalion  of  artillery. 

He  called  the  Legislature  together  April  17,  and  three 
days  after  the  President's  call  was  on  the  way  with  his 
troops  for  the  Capitol. 

The  energy  manifested  by  this  little  state  attracted 
universal  admiration.  When  General  Butler,  April  24, 
with  his  men  faint  from  hunger,  utterly  exhausted,  some 
of  them  sunstruck,  were  pressing  towards  Washington, 
four  miles  from  Annapolis,  they  passed  the  Rhode  Island 
regiment,  by  whom  they  were  generously  supplied  with 
provisions,  and  the  next  day  reached  Washington  about 
noon. 

Washington  began  again  to  breathe  freely,  for  from 
the  green  hills  and  rugged  mountain  sides  of  the  North 
ern  states  men  of  war  poured  into  the  Capitol  for  the 
defense  of  the  nation. 

General  Butler  took  command  of  the  heights  about 
Annapolis,  and  held  the  Secessionists  in  check.  On 
May  2  the  Rhode  Island  marine  artillery  arrived.  Gov 
ernor  Sprague  with  the  regiment  met  them  on  parade  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue.  President  Lincoln  received  them 
at  five  o'clock  in  front  of  the  White  House.  Then  the 


398  Love  and  Liberty. 

infantry  marched  to  the  Interior  Department  building, 
with  the  Governor  at  their  head.  The  Hag  was  raised 
over  the  building,  and  as  the  soldiers  entered  they  sung: 
"  Our  Flag  Still  Waves." 

Capt.  Joe  Slocum,  husband  of  stately  Bess,  was  there 
with  his  company  of  brave  fellows  from  Ashton  and  vi 
cinity.  Bob  Briggs,  of  early  days'  remembrance,  and  his 
son  Ben,  Frank,  both  enlisted  under  the  stalwart  Joe, 
whom  Bob  said  would  be  a  great  general  if  the  war  only 
lasted  long  enough, — and  when  Samuel  Fuller  read  about 
this  regiment  and  Capt.  Joe  with  them,  he  felt  that  day 
so  blue  he  could  scarcely  control  himself,  and  yet,  for  his 
father's  sake,  he  kept  his  promise. 

When,  May  4th,  President  Lincoln  called  for  forty- 
two  thousand  volunteers  for  three  years'  service,  and  a 
few  days  later  a  company  was  organized  at  Seaview,  he 
went  to  the  captain  and  asked  to  join  them,  provided 
they  did  not  get  away  before  commencement  in  early- 
June  at  the  Academy. 

He  was  allowed  to  drill  with  them,  as  the  regiment 
gradually  gathered  at  camp  just  out  of  the  village,  seek 
ing  to  perfect  themselves  in  military  knowledge  and  ac 
quirements,  while  Greene  at  the  Academy  kept  his  soldier 
suit,  and  James  knew  not  young  Samuel's  purpose.  So 
it  was,  that  the  very  day  his  honors  came  to  him  at  the 
Academy,  the  news  came  for  that  regiment  to  leave  the 
following  day  for  the  front.  Towards  evening  he  per 
suaded  Rachel  to  go  with  him  to  that  old  trysting-place 
at  Lover's  Lane.  So,  excusing  themselves  from  the 
merry  company  for  a  while,  they  strolled  up  the  hill,  out 
into  the  pasture  and  woodland,  where  so  many  young 
couples  had  plighted  troth. 

"  Rachel,"  said  he,  "  I  have  brought  you  here  to  have 
a  last  good  talk  together  before  we  part ;  to-morrow  I 
go  to  war." 

Rachel  started.  "  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  en 
listed,  Samuel,"  she  said. 

Then  he  told  her  how  it  was,  and  that  he  was  a  ser 
geant  in  the  Seaview  company. 

"It  is  a  three  years'  call,  my  love;  I  prayed  God 
would  hold  the  regiment  till  school  was  done,  that  I 


The  Storm  of  War.  399 

might  keep  my  promise  to  father,  for  I  fear,  had  it  gone 
before,  that  I  should  have  gone  too." 

"  Samuel,"  said  Rachel,  "  you  know  I  would  not  hold 
you  back  from  duty." 

Then  she  trembled  and  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

They  sat  side  by  side  under  the  shady  tree  in  the  twi 
light  hour,  and  spoke  words  which  they  knew  would  ever 
remain  as  precious  memories  in  coming  days. 

"  Will  we  ever  meet  again  ?  "  asked  Rachel. 

"  God  only  knows,  my  darling ;  I  trust,  however,  that 
He  will  spare  us  to  each  other  if  it  be  His  will.  And 
now,  my  Rachel,"  he  continued,  "  I  wish  to  give  to  you 
this  keepsake,  which,  whether  I  return  or  not,  I  know 
that  you  will  always  cherish  for  my  sake." 

"  Whatever  it  is,  Samuel,  I  will  always  guard  it 
sacredly." 

Samuel  unwrapped  the  package,  disclosing  a  small 
book  of  Whittier's  earlier  poems.  The  covers  were  blue 
and  gold.  Inside  the  cover,  in  a  plain  white  envelope, 
were  remains  of  fragrant  rose  leaves,  which  had  been 
carefully  preserved.  Then  he  told  the  story  of  his 
mother's  death,  of  his  father's  sorrow  and  hermit  life, 
and  how,  when  twelve  years  old,  his  father  gave  him 
this  book  over  his  mother's  grave. 

"  To  my  father  and  myself  it  is  a  sacred  treasure ;  my 
mother  kissed  it  the  day  she  died,"  said  Samuel. 

The  tears  stood  in  Rachel's  eyes.  '  This  precious  pack 
age  is  safe  with  me,  Samuel,  and  I  feel  happy  that  you 
have  entrusted  it  to  my  keeping.  Now,  Samuel,  I  will 
give  you  a  little  surprise.  Marion  and  I  are  going  into 
the  army  hospitals  as  nurses,  just  as  soon  as  we  are 
needed  and  fitting  opportunity  occurs.  We  have  settled 
it  in  our  own  minds.  Marion,  as  you  know,  is  a  very 
skilful  nurse.  She  has  five  brothers  at  the  front,  the 
youngest  only  sixteen,  she  says." 

"  Rachel,  can  I  bear  to  think  of  you  amidst  the  hor 
rors  of  war?  Oh,  my  God,  how  dreadful  it  all  is!  And 
yet,  my  clear,  we  believe  that  out  of  this  terrible  tempest 
of  wrath  by  the  suffering  and  death  of  men,  shall  the  free 
dom  of  the  race  be  surely  advanced." 

"  Yes,  Samuel,  God  will  be  about  us  both,  and  we  will 


4oo  Love  and  Liberty. 

write,  and  if  it  he  our  Father's  will,  some  day  we'll  meet 
again,  and  have  a  happy  home;  but  if  not,  it  is  a  source 
of  joy  that  both,  as  duty  came,  did  the  best  we  could." 

"  Rachel,  I  love  you  more  and  more ;  I  would  that  I 
was  more  worthy  of  such  a  treasure.  It's  terribly  bit 
ter  to  leave  you,  and  then  I  think  if  I  had  kept  away 
you  might  have  been  happy  with  Mr.  Xoble,  and  now  I 
go  and  leave  you  alone  to  suffer." 

"  You  need  not  think  of  Mr.  Xoble  in  that  way,  Sam 
uel.  If  I  had  never  met  you,  Mr.  Xoble  and  I  could 
have  been  no  more  than  friends,  as  we  had  always 
been." 

"  So  you  think  now,  but  I  do  not  know  ;  and  if  I  never 
come  back,  my  darling,  remember  that  no  memory  of 
Samuel  need  keep  you  from  a  future  happy  home  with 
some  one  else." 

They  sat  with  arms  around  each  other,  the  shadows  of 
night  about  them,  talking  of  sweet  love  and  all  the  bit 
terness  of  parting.  They  were  both  so  young,  and  yet  al 
ready  life,  which  that  day  had  been  so  bright  and  happy, 
was  bringing  to  them  keen  sorrow,  but  buoyed  up  with 
hope,  which  keeps  men's  hearts  from  breaking,  they 
did  not  despair,  and  sought  to  be  as  cheerful  as 
possible. 

The  moon  rose  ere  they  left  the  shady  nook,  and  then 
they  walked  home,  and  found  what  was  left  of  the  party 
very  anxious  about  them. 

Rachel's  parents  and  Marion  had  left  for  Glentown, 
ere  they  went  to  walk,  but  Tom  Smith  was  to  stay  all 
night. 

They  were  having  a  light  evening  lunch  when  there 
came  a  rap  at  the  door.  James  opened  it,  and  there  stood 
Jimmie  boy,  his  namesake. 

"  \Yhy,  Jimmie  boy,  walk  in.  Where  did  you  come 
from  ?  " 

"  Come  from  home,"  answered  the  boy  shyly. 

"Jimmie,"  cried  Tom,  "what's  the  matter?  Baby 
sick,  or  what?  " 

"  Xothing's  the  matter,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  Sue  ain't  taken  bad,  is  she  ?  "  bawled  Tom. 

"  No,  no,  dad,  everything's  all  right." 


The  Storm  of  War.  40! 

"  Something's  up,  or  you  wouldn't  be  here,  by  gum," 
said  Tom. 

"  We're  goin'  to  war  to-morrer,"  said  Jimmie,  uneasily, 
and  looked  at  Samuel. 

"Who's  going  to  war?"  snapped  Tom;  "you  ain't." 

"I  be,  too,  so  there;  Samuel's  goin'  with  me." 

"Samuel!"  cried  James  and  Lucy  in  one  breath. 

"  Father  and  Uncle  Tom,  and  all  the  rest,  be  quiet..  I 
will  tell  you  how  it  is,"  spoke  up  Samuel.  "  A  few  days 
ago  I  joined  the  company  here,  hoping  they  wouldn't 
go  to  the  front  till  after  commencement.  They  have 
planned  to  drill  here  for  several  weeks,  as  father  knows. 
Father  understands  I  must  go  to  war,  but  I  promised 
not  to  go  till  I  graduated.  They've  made  me  a  sergeant 
in  the  company,  and  I've  drilled  with  them  several  times. 
To-day  word  came  that  the  regiment  was  to  go  to  Wash 
ington  to-morrow.  Jimmie  had  mac!e  me  promise  Fd 
send  him  word  when  they  went,  as  he  was  bound  to  go 
with  me ;  so  this  morning  I  telegraphed  to  him.  He's 
already  been  examined,  and  I  suppose  has  been  ac 
cepted." 

"Oh,  Samuel !  Samuel !"  they  all  cried.  "You  and 
Jimmie  going  to  war?" 

"  Going  to  get  killed,  I  know,"  said  Lucy.  "  War  is 
just  terrible!  " 

"  Jimmie,  how  came  Sue  to  let  you  come  ? "  asked 
Tom. 

"  Didn't  tell  her,"  sputtered  Jimmie. 

"  You'll  break  your  mother's  heart,  Jimmie,"  cried 
Tom. 

"  Mother  knows  I'm  goin'  sometime,"  said  Jimmie ; 
"  told  her  so." 

At  first  Tom  thought  he  would  make  Jimmie  go  back 
with  him,  but  he  thought  better  of  it  for  two  reasons.  In 
the  first  place,  he  was  practically  sure  Jimmie  wouldn't  go 
back,  and  in  the  next  place  he  knew  that  if  Jimmie  didn't 
go  now,  he'd  run  away  soon.  If  he  must,  go,  he'd  rather 
have  him  go  with  Samuel  than  with  any  one  else. 

James  said  very  little.  He  loved  Samuel  with  all  his 
heart.  The  boy  had  delayed  thus  long,  mostly  to  please 
him.  He  was  of  age.  He  could  not  control  him,  and 
26 


4o2  Love  and  Liberty. 

then,  while  James  called  himself  a  peace  man,  he  really 
believed  this  slavery  question  could  not  be  settled  with 
out  war,  and  the  Union  unist  be  preserved.  He  knew  it 
was  no  harder  for  him  to  part  with  Samuel  than  for 
other  fathers  to  give  their  sons  for  the  cause  of  Union 
and  liberty,  but  James,  with  his  peculiar  nature,  had  a 
feeling  that  some  evil  was  coming,  and  doubted  if  he 
ever  saw  Ruth's  boy  again. 

It  was  rather  a  solemn  company  that  night,  when  Sadie 
Jones,  thinking  something  desperate  must  be  done,  com 
menced  singing : 

"  When  I  was  single,  I  lived  at  my  ease, 
>«'ow  I  am  married,  a  husband  to  please; 
Four  small  children  to  maintain, 
O  how  I  wish  I  was  single  again." 

Everybody  began  to  laugh  as  Sadie  danced  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  catching  Samuel  by  the  hands, 
and  away  they  spun  about  the  room. 

"  Mrs.  Jones,  you  are  the  life  of  a  party,"  said  Ra 
chel. 

"  Somebody  has  got  to  be  lively  sometimes,"  said 
Sadie.  "  This  dreadfully  solemn  crowd  must  be  helped 
out  of  its  misery." 

"  One  cries,  '  Mother,  I  want  a  piece  of  bread,' 
Another  cries,  '  Mother,  I  want  to  go  to  bed  ; ' 
Wash  'em  and  dress  'em,  and  put  'em  into  bed, 
Husband  a-scolding,  I  wish " 

"Hold  on,  Sadie,"  cried  James;  "no  further,  if  you 
please.  Husbands  are  not  as  bad  as  you  make  out." 

"  They're  bad  enough,  Mr.  Fuller,  I  can  assure  you," 
cried  Sadie,  with  mock  gravity. 

Rachel  watched  the  comely  Sadie  trying  to  cheer  up 
the  spirits  of  the  little  company,  and  blessed  her  for  it. 

Soon  Ned  Jones  came  for  Sadie.  Before  they  went, 
James  said : 

"  Friends,  to  me  this  is  an  epochal  day,  as  you  can  all 
understand.  It  has  been  a  day  of  great  joy,  mingled 
to-night  with  sorrow.  \\  e  may  never  all  meet  together 
again.  I  will  read  the  scriptures  and  offer  prayer,  which 


The  Storm  of  War.  403 

is  not  a  usual  custom  with  me,  but  which  I  feel  impressed 
to  do  at  this  time." 

He  then  read  the  twenty-seventh  Psalm.  When  he 
came  to  the  words,  "  Though  a  host  should  encamp 
against  me,  my  heart  shall  not  fear;  though  war  should 
rise  against  me,  in  this  will  I  be  confident.  For  in  the 
time  of  trouble  he  shall  hide  me  in  his  pavillion,"  his 
voice  trembled,  but  as  he  read  the  closing  verse,  "  Wait  on 
the  Lord,  be  of  good  courage,  and  he  shall  strengthen 
thine  heart,"  it  grew  strong  again.  He  then  knelt  and 
offered  a  most  fervent  petition.  Samuel  had  often  heard 
his  father  pray,  though  James  was  not  in  the  habit  of  con 
ducting  family  prayers,  except  on  particular  occasions; 
but  he  had  never  known  such  a  prayer  to  fall  from  those 
lips  before.  With  his  Quaker  instincts,  James  was 
mightily  moved  in  a  spiritual  way,  and  his  prayers  for 
God's  blessing  on  his  son  and  Jimmie,  about  to  go  forth 
to  battle  for  freedom  and  righteousness,  moved  all  hearts 
which  heard.  His  prayer  for  those  who  remained  be 
hind  was  touching,  and  for  "  her  whom  God  hath  given 
to  bless  us  with  her  friendship  and  love,"  made  the  tears 
start  to  Rachel's  eyes. 

At  the  close,  Ned  and  Sadie  departed,  followed  by 
Samuel  and  Rachel  to  the  boarding-hall,  where- the  lovers 
bade  each  other  a  tearful  good-by.  With  a  close  em 
brace  and  a  kiss  on  Rachel's  lips,  Samuel  tore  himself 
from  his  beloved,  with  her  "  God  bless  and  keep  you 
always,  Samuel,"  ringing  in  his  ears. 

He  had  given  her  a  lock  of  his  hair,  and  she  had  given 
him  one  of  those  beautiful  curls,  tied  with  a  white 
ribbon. 

The  next  morning,  the  regiment,  the  Second  Rhode 
Island,  struck  their  tents  and  went  to  Providence.  A 
large  number  from  Scaview  accompanied  the  soldiers  to 
the  city,  among  them  James,  Tom  Smith,  Rachel  and 
Edith  Snow.  On  the  way,  Samuel  and  Rachel  had  op 
portunity  for  a  few  more  words,  and  Rachel  gave  him  a 
letter  which  he  was  not  to  open  till  he  had  gone  from 
Providence. 

As  they  left  the  cars,  who  should  appear  but  Wendell 
Phillips,  Rachel's  brother,  who,  hearing  the  regiment 


404  Love  and  Liberty. 

was  going",  and  not  daring  to  enlist  in  Glentown,  had  run 
away  to  join  Samuel  in  the  regiment.  He  was  only 
sixteen,  and  Willard  would  not  consent  that  his  boy  of 
such  tender  age  should  go  forth  to  the  horrors  of  war. 
When  Rachel  saw  him,  she  turned  pale,  but  could  not 
change  his  purpose. 

"  I'll  look  out  for  him,"  said  Samuel,  and  then  they 
kissed  each  other  a  last  good-by,  after  which  lover  and 
brother,  with  the  regiment,  marched  on  to  Exchange 
Place,  where,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  crowd  of  spec 
tators,  an  address  was  delivered  by  Bishop  Thomas  M. 
Clark,  who  also  invoked  the  Divine  blessing.  Many 
tokens  of  regard  were  received  by  officers  and  men,  which 
would  add  to  their  comfort,  including  a  thousand  rubber 
blankets  from  the  firm  of  A.  &  W.  Sprague.  The  citi 
zens  of  Lonsdale  made  a  liberal  donation  to  the  hospital 
department.  An  elegant  stand  of  colors  was  presented 
to  the  regiment  by  the  ladies  of  Providence,  which  were 
assigned  to  Samuel's  company.  The  colonel  was  John 
S.  Slocum,  who  had  gained  reputation  in  the  Mexican 
war,  cousin  of  our  friend  Joe. 

It  was  June  19,  that  these  "  boys  in  blue,"  after  the  ex 
ercises  on  Exchange  Place,  resumed  their  march  to  Fox 
Point.  Sergeant  Fuller,  with  his  bright  new  uniform, 
made  a  handsome  picture,  as  James,  with  tearful  eyes, 
saw  him  depart,  proud  and  happy,  to  fight  for  Union  and 
liberty,  while  Tom  Smith  and  Rachel  waved  farewell  to 
Samuel,  Jimmie  and  Wendell,  their  eyes  also  wet  with 
tears. 

Arriving  at  Fox  Point,  the  regiment  went  on  board 
the  steamer  State  of  Maine,  and  arrived  in  Washington 
June  22,  accompanied  by  Governor  Sprague  and  Rey 
nold's  battery. 

"  Where  do  we  camp,  Samuel?  "  asked  Jimmie. 

"  In  Gale's  woods,  near  Camp  Sprague,"  answered 
Samuel. 

"Suppose  we'll  meet  Uncle  Joe  Slocum  there?" 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  Colonel  Burn- 
side,  who  will  be  our  commander." 

Three  days  after  their  arrival,  Samuel  said  to  Jimmie 
and  Wendell,  "  Both  our  regiments  and  their  batteries 


The  Storm  of  War.  405 

pay  respects  to  President  Lincoln  to-day.  He'll  review 
us  ;  slick  up,  boys  !  " 

"Going  to  see  President  Lincoln?"  said  Jimmie  and 
Wendell  both  in  one  breath. 

"  Just  that,  my  laddies,"  was  the  answer. 

Captain  Joe  came  over  to  see  them. 

"I'm  going  to  see  President  Lincoln,  uncle!" 

"  Of  course,  Jimmie,  we'll  all  see  him.  Get  into  your 
best  trim,  my  boy,"  answered  his  uncle. 

"  Samuel,  our  two  regiments  and  batteries  are  to  be 
brigaded  with  the  71  st  New  York  and  the  Second  New 
Hampshire." 

"  So  Colonel  Slocum  told  us  this  morning,"  replied 
Samuel. 

Here,  for  the  present,  we  must  leave  these  friends  and 
turn  our  attention  to  some  other  persons  who  have  be 
come  of  interest  to  our  readers. 


406  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

BILL  AND  NANCE  AGAIN. 

"  SHAN'T  do  it,  nuthcr.  Mind  your  own  business, 
Nance  Billings,  and  let  me  "lone." 

"  I  tell  you,  Bill  Jenks,  ye've  got  ter  du  it,  so  ther." 
"  Sal  Slate  kin  go  ter  thunder,  f'r  all  me,  old  gal." 
"  You   go   to   thunder,   yerself ;  Sal's   ailers   been   my 
frien',  and  ye've  got  ter  help  her." 

Bill  and  Nance  were  still  at  it.  The  day  of  Lawrence 
Lyons'  funeral,  Bill  learned  that  the  deputy-sheriff  was 
coming  for  him.  It  came  about  through  Sal  Slate;  but 
though  they  only  had  an  hour's  start  of  the  deputy,  Dill 
and  Nance  took  a  bundle  or  two  containing  what  few 
lightweight  things  they  could  put  together,  and  hastily 
departed.  To  tell  the  truth,  Nance  for  a  day  or  two  had 
suspected  that  Bill  killed  Lawrence,  because  he  seemed 
so  uneasy  and  had  plenty  of  money ;  and  when  Sal  told 
them  about  the  deputy  then  after  them,  Bill's  action 
convinced  her  that  he  was  guilty.  They  locked  the  door 
behind  them,  and  secretly  stole  away  towards  the  road 
which  led  to  Whitehall,  intending,  if  circumstances 
permitted,  to  get  the  stage  coach  within  a  day  or  two. 
They  kept  out  of  the  highway  and  staved  that  night  at 
a  little  hut  in  the  woods  with  a  man  whom  Bill  had  met. 
The  man  suspected  that  they  had  been  stealing,  but  as  he 
occasionally  did  similar  things  himself,  made  no  in 
quiries.  They  remained  all  the  next  day,  but  left  the 
following  night,  and  finally,  after  some  difficulties  and 
adventures,  struck  on  to  the  stage  route.  Then  it  oc 
curred  to  them  that  it  would  not  do  to  take  the  coach 
at  all.  for  people  would  know  by  this  time  that  the 
sheriff  was  after  them,  and  would  notify  the  officer  of 
their  whereabouts. 


Bill  and  Nance  Again.  407 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  clay  after  day  they  trudged 
on,  hiding  whenever  any  persons  were  sighted,  till  at 
length  they  reached  Whitehall,  which  was  a  town  of 
several  thousand  people. 

"  Now  we'll  get  on  ter  the  train,"  said  Bill. 

"  Twon't  du,  Bill.  They'll  put  men  here  to  spot  ye, 
sure." 

''Ye  s'pose  they  will?  By  gum,  I've  tramped  'bout 
long  'nough." 

At  last  they  decided  to  walk  along  further  till  they 
reached  a  small  station,  where  probably  there  would  be 
no  spies.  Then,  arranging  their  dress  the  best  they  could, 
with  what  they  had,  they  threw  away  their  bundles,  keep 
ing  only  such  things  as  they  could  carry  on  their  persons. 
Money  was  plenty  with  Bill,  but  he  only  showed  a  lit 
tle  at  a  time.  In  buying  food  on  the  route,  Nance  had 
cautioned  him,  and  up  to  this  time  they  had  eluded  all 
pursuit. 

After  buying  tickets  for  Albany,  they  boarded  the 
train.  It  was  in  the  twilight,  and  seated  at  the  end  of 
the  car,  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  them.  When  Al 
bany  was  reached,  they  went  to  a  hotel.  The  next  day 
Nance  told  Bill  they  must  "  fix  up  "  and  be  respectable 
as  he  had  plenty  of  money.  Bill  got  a  clean  shave,  had 
his  hair  cut,  bought  new  clothes  for  himself  and  Nance, 
and  really,  our  readers  would  never  have  known  the 
newly-eauipped  coup'e  for  Bill  and  Nance  of  former 
days.  They  went  on  the  boat  to  New  York,  and  after 
reaching  the  city  hired  some  rooms  in  cheap  quarters, 
and  Bill  began  to  hunt  up  some  of  his  old  cronies. 

Meanwhile,  Sal  Slate  and  her  husband  decided  to  go 
to  New  York,  and  after  some  adventures,  found  Bill 
with  his  sweet  companion  in  their  city  quarters.  Sal 
had  often  heard  Nance  tell  about  the  Bowery,  and  the 
number  where  she  and  Bill  formerly  lived,  and  by  in 
quiry,  at  length  found  them. 

"  How  d'ye  du,  Nance  ?  "  said  Sal,  as  she  rapped  at 
the  door,  and  Mrs.  Billings  went  to  see  who  was  there. 

"  Why,  Sal  Slate,  walk  right  in,  and  Nate,  tu.  Great 
Scott,  how'd  ye  ever  git  here?  " 

"  Same  way  ye  did,  I  s'pose.     Where's  Bill  ?  " 


408  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Bill's  out  some'ers  up  tu  his  old  tricks  same's  ever," 
returned  Nance. 

"Did  Bill  really  kill  Lyons?"  asked  Sal. 

"  None  yer  bus'ness  whether  he  did  or  not,"  answered 
cautious  Nance. 

At  that  moment  Bill  appeared  and  saw  Nate  and  Sal. 

"  By  gum,  Nate,  how  are  ye?  " 

"  First-rate,  ole  chap,"  replied  Nate,  "  this  is  a  big 
city,  eh?  " 

"  Reckon  it's  big,"  returned  Bill.  "  Come,  Nate,  let's 
get  a  little  somethin',"  and  Bill  gave  a  wink  and  leered 
at  Nate. 

Out  they  went  and  left  the  women  together ;  they  came 
home  at  night  so  drunk  that  they  could  hardly  stand  ; 
Nance  having  treated  Sal,  none  of  the  worthies  were  quite 
up  to  the  ordinary  standard  of  sobriety. 

Nate  and  Sal  secured  quarters  near  by  and  were  intro 
duced  to  the  cronies  of  our  worthy  friends.  There  was 
a  regular  gang  of  desperate  men  and  'women  up  to  theft 
and  nearly  all  kinds  of  rascality,  with  whom  they  were 
connected. 

One  dark  night  Sal  was  out  with  some  women  of  the 
gang  engaged  in  a  small  robbery,  when  the  police  ar 
rested  her.  It  was  a  clear  case  and  Sal  received  a  pretty 
heavy  sentence,  considering  it  was  the  first  time  that  she 
had  been  caught.  Part  of  it  was  fine,  and  in  default  of 
payment,  Sal  must  work  it  out. 

Nance  told  Bill  after  Sal's  time  was  up,  that  he  must 
help  Nate  pay  that  fine  so  Sal  could  be  free  again.  This 
was  what  he  protested  against  at  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter. 

Bill  swore  Nance  shouldn't  have  a  cent.  He  had  se 
creted  part  of  the  money  he  took  from  Lawrence,  and 
Nance  had  never  been  able  to  use  so  much  of  it  as  she 
desired,  but  the  day  this  conversation  occurred,  after  Bill 
went  out,  Nance  went  to  work,  and  after  a  long  search, 
found  the  money,  and  the  draft  which  Bill  had  never 
done  anything  with,  not  knowing  exactly  how  to  use  it. 
Nance  opened  her  eyes  in  astonishment,  for  there  must 
have  been  five  hundred  dollars  in  money  left,  beside  the 
draft  for  five  hundred  more, 


Bill  and  Nance  Again.  409 

"  What  in  creation  made  the  codger  so  all-fired  tight 
with  them  spondulix,  I  wonder?"  said  Nance  to  herself. 

And  it  was  a  marvel.  But  Bill  didn't  mean  to  get  out 
of  money  very  soon,  Nance  plagued  him  so  when  he  was 
penniless ;  so  he  had  doled  out  comparatively  small  sums 
to  his  loving  companion. 

Nance  took  the  whole  of  the  money,  went  to  a  business 
man  who  employed  her  to  do  his  washing,  told  him  her 
brother  had  recently  died,  and  sent  her  this  draft,  and 
asked  how  would  she  get  it  cashed  ? 

"  Pay  to  the  order  of  Lawrence  Lyons  five  hundred 
dollars,"  read  the  man.  He  turned  it  over ;  there  on  the 
back  was  the  signature,  "  Lawrence  Lyons." 

"  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  carry  it  to  the  bank,"  said 
the  man.  "  If  it's  all  right,  the  bank  will  pay  you  the 
money." 

"  Don't  I  need  nobody  to  tell  who  I  be?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Not  if  it's  all  right,  but  then  I'm  going  to  the  bank 
myself  to  deposit,  and  will  take  it  if  you  wish.  You 
wait  here  and  I'll  bring  you  the  money." 

He  went  out ;  as  he  walked  along  he  glanced  at  the 
date.  It  was  six  months  old. 

"  Queer  it  hasn't  been  cashed  before  now,"  said  the 
man. 

The  man  showed  the  draft.  "  We  don't  know  Law 
rence  Lyons,"  said  the  cashier. 

"  You  know  the  bank,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  telegraph  and  ask  if  it's  all  right,  I'll  pay  the 
charge." 

The  man  was  getting  interested.  The  bank  was  in 
Albany. 

After  some  time  word  was  received  that  Lawrence 
Lyons  was  dead,  but  the  estate  was  all  right. 

"  I  told  you  the  woman  said  her  brother  was  dead. 
This  is  his  signature." 

The  cashier  paid  the  money ;  the  man  departed  and 
paid  it  to  Nance,  who  was  profuse  in  her  thanks. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  the  man,  "  only  it's  taken  some 
time ;  I  had  to  wait  for  reply  to  a  telegram  they  sent 
to  Albany,  inquiring  of  the  bank.  That  isn't  the  usual 


4i o  Love  and  Liberty. 

way  to  send  checks.  They  are  usually  made  out  in  the 
name  of  the  party  to  whom  they  are  paid,"  he  continued. 

"  Shall  I  pay  ye  for  the  telegrams?  "  asked  Xance. 

"  Half  a  dollar,"  was  the  answer. 

It  was  kind  of  Mr.  Williams  to  help  her  out,  Xance 
thought. 

"How  long's  your  brother  been  dead?"  inquired  Mr. 
Williams. 

"  More'n  six  months,"  was  the  reply,  as  Xance  de 
parted. 

Xance  Billings  had  a  thousand  dollars  in  her  pocket. 
It  was  marvelous.  She  found  Xate  and  asked  him  if 
he  had  any  money  to  get  Sal  out. 

"  Xot  a  red,"  said  Xate. 

"  Well,  come  on,  I've  got  some  for  ye." 

They  went  to  the  Tombs  and  after  certain  processes, 
the  $100  fine  was  paid  and  Sal  accompanied  them  home. 

When  they  reached  Nance  Billings'  house  Bill  was 
there,  looking  cross.  He  was  half  drunk  and  ugly. 

"  Where  yer  been?  "  he  cried. 

;<  To  get  Sal  out  o'  jail,"  answered  Nance. 

"  Hovv'd  yer  git  'er  out?" 

"  With  money." 

"  Where'd  ye  git  the  money,  Xance  Billings?  " 

"  Cum,  Sal,  let's  go  hum,"  said  Nate,  for  he  thought  a 
storm  was  brewing. 

"  Good-night,  Sal,  cum  over  to-morrow,"  said  Xance, 
as  they  went  out. 

"  Xow,  Xance  Billings,  ye've  got  to  tell  where  ye  got 
that  money." 

"  I  got  it  where  ye  put  it,  and  I've  got  yer  check  cashed 
tu." 

"Ye  have,  have  ye?  I'll  teach  ye  to  tech  my  money. 
Take  that,  ye  blasted  fool." 

Bill  struck  Nance  a  heavy  blow,  but  Xance  wasn't 
scared.  He  had  struck  her  before,  but  she  always  cowed 
him.  Xance  weighed  190  pounds ;  a  heavy,  tall  woman. 
When  Bill  struck  at  her  the  next  time  she  caught  his 
wrist  in  an  iron  grip. 

Bill's  blood  was  up,  however,  and  he  snatched  his  arm 
away.  Then  Nance  gave  him  a  flat-hander,  which  stag- 


Bill  and  Nance  Again.  411 

gered  him,  and  there  for  several  minutes  they  had  it 
lively.  The  noise  attracted  the  people  nearby  and  some 
one  went  for  the  police. 

They  were  not  badly  matched,  and  though  it  is  probable 
that  Bill  would  have  conquered  in  the  long  run,  some  one 
called  out,  "  The  cops  are  coming,"  when  Bill  and  Nance 
suddenly  disappeared. 

When  the  police  arrived  neither  of  them  could  be 
found.  However,  late  that  night  they  turned  up  to 
gether  in  their  home.  Nance  delivered  the  money  to 
Bill  and  a  peace  was  patched  up  between  them. 

Something  like  a  week  after  this  the  amiable  pair  were 
surprised  by  a  visit  from  Mr.  Williams,  the  man  who 
had  obtained  the  money  for  the  check. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Mr.  Williams. 

"  How'd  ye  du  ?  "  responded  Nance. 

"  When  did  that  check  come  for  you  ?  "  asked  Wil 
liams. 

'  'Bout  six  months  agone,"  answered  Nance.  "  We 
didn't  kno'  how  ter  git  the  money  on't  afore." 

Williams  made  some  inquiries  about  Lawrence  Lyons, 
where  he  lived,  where  he  died,  and  went  away. 

"  We's  done  for  if  we  don't  git,"  said  Bill,  "  sure  as 
shootin'." 

They  didn't  wait  for  good-by  receptions  nor  any  for 
malities,  but  packed  a  valise  and  started  for  Jersey  City, 
crossed  the  river  and  arrived  at  the  station  on  the  other 
side. 

'  Train  for  Baltimore,"  called  out  the  trainman. 

They  bought  tickets,  entered  the  cars  and  in  due  time 
arrived  in  Baltimore,  where  they  lived  for  some  time. 

The  day  of  the  riot,  when  the  sixth  Massachusetts  was 
assaulted,  Bill  was  in  his  element.  His  particular 
weapons  were  great  stones  which  he  hurled  with  much 
force  into  the  Union  ranks.  With  three  stones  enclosed 
by  his  left  arm  and  a  fourth  flung  by  his  right  hand,  Bill 
was  happy.  He  was  the  man  that  Chester  Nye  dropped 
with  a  bullet  from  his  musket.  Bill  rolled  over.  The 
crowd  trampled  on  him  and  he  thought  he  was  dying. 
He  became  unconscious.  When  the  turbulent  mob  had 
been  partially  subdued,  Bill  was  found  still  breathing  and 


412  Love  and  Liberty. 

some  one  who  knew  him  had  him  carried  home  to  Nance, 
who  had  been  in  the  riot  herself  and  lost  Bill.  He  was 
shot  in  the  side,  and  badly  wounded,  but  under  Nance's 
nursing  and  perhaps  on  the  theory  that  he  was  too 
wicked  to  die,  Bill  finally  recovered. 

One  day  after  recovery  Bill  said,  "  Nance,  I'm  goin' 
ter  war." 

"Goin'  ter  war?"  returned  Nance. 

"  Yes  sirree." 

"What  for,  ye  blasted  fool?  I've  just  got  ye  so  ye 
can  walk.  Want  nuther  turn  o'  bullets,  do  ye?  " 

"  I'll  jine  the  rebs.  WV11  lick  them  ab'litionists  all 
ter  pieces." 

What  struck  Bill  to  go  Nance  couldn't  determine. 
But  go  he  would  and  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  ranks. 


Defeat  and  Death.  413 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

DEFEAT  AND  DEATH. 

WILLARD  ALDRICH  was  in  Boston  soon  after  the  Presi 
dent's  first  call  for  troops  and  called  on  William  Lloyd 
Garrison.  He  found  him  in  his  office  on  Washington 
Street,  calm  and  serene,  setting  up  matter  for  the  Liber 
ator. 

"  Mr.  Garrison,"  said  Willard,  "  what  is  your  opinion 
of  the  rebellion?  Will  it  be  a  sixty  days'  flurry,  as  Sec 
retary  Seward  prophesies,  or  are  we  to  have  war  ?  " 

"  We  are  to  have  a  bloody  war,  Mr.  Aldrich ;  a  civil 
war ; — always  more  to  be  dreaded  than  one  with  a  for 
eign  nation." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  be  a  long  war?  " 

"  No  one  can  tell,  sir.  It  may  last  as  long  as  the  war 
of  the  Revolution.  The  North  doesn't  appreciate  the 
purpose  and  ability  of  the  South.  It  expects  an  easv  tri 
umph,  but  I  think  will  be  mistaken.  It  is  my  opinion 
that  there  will  be  a  desperate  struggle  of  which  most 
people  do  not  dream." 

"What  will  be  the  result,  Mr.  Garrison?  Will  the 
war  end  in  dissolution  of  the  Union?  " 

"  No  one  can  answer  that  question,  Mr.  Aldrich.  Of 
one  thing  only  am  I  sure — that  war  will  result  in  the 
death  of  slavery." 

"Then  you  believe  that,  Mr.  Garrison?  Theodore 
Parker  has  predicted  that  slavery  would  go  down  in 
blood,  but  some  thought  it  never  could  be  possible  that 
his  prophecy  would  be  verified." 

As  Willard  talked  with  Garrison,  Wendell  Phillips 
entered. 

"  Garrison,"  said  he,  "  the  morning  paper  gives  an  ac- 


414  Love  and  Liberty. 

count  of  a  great  ovation  given  the  Sixth  Massachusetts 
regiment  in  its  passage  through  New  York." 

"  So  I  observed,"  answered  Garrison ;  "  you  are  as 
impassioned  as  ever,  I  see,  yet  self-poised  as  well." 

"  Wny  not?"  returned  Phillips.  "Ah,  Mr.  Aldrich, 
good  morning,  glad  to  see  you  again." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Phillips,  sad  times  have  come," 
said  Willard. 

'  They  had  to  come,"  was  the  answer.  "  Mr.  Garri 
son  " — went  on  Aldrich — "  thinks  the  war  will  result  in 
the  destruction  of  slavery.  Is  that  also  your  opinion?" 

"  Yes.  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  They  that  take  the  sword 
must  perish  with  the  sword,  which  is  the  case  with  the 
Secessionists ;  mark  my  words,  sir :  five  years  hence  not 
a  slave  will  he  found  on  American  soil." 

"  You  dare  to  make  a  prophecy  which  seems  almost 
the  height  of  absurdity,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  which  I 
trust  will  be  fulfilled." 

\Yhen  Willard  returned  home  a  day  or  two  later, 
news  came  of  young  Whitney's  death  in  Baltimore  by  the 
mob.  Soon  afterward  the  body  was  received  in  Glen- 
town  and  the  funeral  held  in  the  church.  The  National 
colors  and  mourning  decorations  were  superb.  Over  the 
body  the  minister  preached  a  sermon  which  thrilled  every 
heart,  and  the  very  air  was  electric  with  patriotism. 
"  Slavery,"  said  he,  "  is  the  underlying  cause  of  this 
rebellion  and  the  war  will  result  in  the  freedom  of  the 
slaves."  The  choir  sang  patriotic  odes  and  "  It  is  sweet, 
it  is  sweet  for  one's  country  to  die,"  moved  all  hearts  to 
tears  and  loyalty.  Whitney's  mother  was  heart-broken. 
''  He  was  all  the  hoy  I  had,"  she  said,  and  would  not  be 
comforted. 

Truman  Goddard  sent  home  his  dying  message:  "If 
anything  happens  to  me  tell  mother  I  died  at  my  post." 

The  plot  of  the  rebels  to  seize  Washington  and  raise 
"  the  stars  and  bars  "  over  the  Capitol  was  discovered  and 
frustrated  by  the  Cassius  M.  Clay  battalion.  The  East 
room  of  the  White  House  was  occupied  by  soldiers  for 
three  weeks.  General  Scott  took  possession  of  the  Capi 
tol,  stored  it  with  military  supplies  and  Zouaves  lounged 


Defeat  and  Death.  415 

in  the  seats  of  Congressmen.  The  Washington  Infir 
mary  wa.s  turned  into  a  military  hospital.  There  was 
continual  skirmishing  between  pickets  and  small  bodies  of 
troops  on  either  side,  which  kept  the  war  spirit  and  ex 
citement  at  fever  heat,  the  North  all  the  while  confident 
that  it  would  soon  crush  the  rebellion.  When  Secretary 
John  A.  Dix  sent  Memphil  Jones  to  rescue  some  Ameri 
can  war  vessel  he  gave  the  order,  "If  any  man  attempts 
to  haul  down  the  American  flag,  shoot  him  on  the  spot." 
If  some  such  orders  had  been  given  by  the  authorities 
earlier  in  the  struggle  much  bloodshed  would  have  been 
saved.  As  regiment  after  regiment  reached  Washington 
the  fear  that  the  city  would  be  attacked  became  less  prob 
able  and  the  nation  breathed  more  freely.  Jefferson 
Davis  had  moved  his  capital  from  Montgomery  to  Rich 
mond. 

If  a  Grant  had  only  appeared  then,  Richmond  might 
have  been  taken  and  the  war  soon  ended,  but  the  nation 
had  not  yet  been  sufficiently  punished  by  Divine  Justice 
for  allowing  slavery  to  exist  all  these  years  within  her 
borders. 

The  Ellsworth  Zouaves  arrived  in  Washington  from 
New  York,  May  3.  They  had  been  firemen  in  New  York 
City.  They  were  sent  to  Alexandria.  The  tragic  death 
of  their  idolized  leader  at  the  Marshall  He  use,  May  24, 
is  well  remembered.  A  rebel  flag  floated  over  the  roof. 

"  We  must  have  that  flag,"  said  Colonel  Ellsworth. 
He  sprang  up  the  stairs  to  the  roof  of  the  house,  seized 
the  flag,  and  was  descending,  when  Jackson,  the  pro 
prietor,  from  a  dark  passage  shot  him  through  the  heart. 
Zouave  Brownell  shot  Jackson  dead  and  thrust  his  bayo 
net  through  the  body.  The  excitement  over  Ellsworth's 
death  was  intense.  The  funeral  was  held  in  Washington 
with  demonstrations  of  respect  and  grief.  As  the  body 
was  borne  to  burial  in  Central  New  York  there  were 
funeral  processions,  badges  of  mourning,  requiems,  and 
tolling  of  bells  in  every  city  through  which  it  passed. 

"  Down  where  the  patriot  army, 

Near  Potomac's  side. 
Guards  the  glorious  cause  of  freedom, 
Gallant  Ellsworth  died. 


4i 6  Love  and  Liberty. 


Brave  was  the  noble  chieftain, 

At  his  country's  call, 
Hastened  to  the  field  of  battle, 

And  was  first  to  fall. 
Strike!  freemen,  for  the  Union, 

Sheathe  your  swords  no  more, 
While  remains  in  arms  a  traitor, 

On  Columbia's  shore." 


Some  of  our  readers  remember  how  this  war  lyric 
stirred  the  hearts  of  the  North  in  the  days  of  '61 — and 
men  went  forth  to  do  and  die  for  the  country  and  the 
flag.  At  Fortress  Monroe,  covering  seventy  acres,  Gen. 
B.  F.  Butler,  in  command,  6000  troops  gathered  and  the 
place  became  a  populous  and  busy  city.  Under  pressure 
of  necessity,  the  General  declared  the  slaves  who  came 
there  "  contraband  of  war."  These  fugitives  pressed  up 
on  our  lines.  Some  generals  received  them  reluctantly, 
fearful  of  Southern  anger ;  others  welcomed  them  cor 
dially.  General  Butler  put  picks  and  shovels  in  their 
hands  and  set  them  to  work  upon  the  fortifications, 
where  they  labored  diligently  and  faithfully.  Captain 
Horace  Fuller  was  detached  to  have  charge  of  them. 
When  after  some  weeks  he  parted  with  them  he  said : 

"  You  are  every  one  entitled  to  your  freedom  as  much 
as  I  am  to  mine." 

"  Believe  you,  Massa,"  responded  the  men.  "  Each 
one,"  he  wrote  to  the  Philadelphia  Chronicle,  "  with  his 
rough  gravelly  hand,  grasped  mine,  and  with  tearful 
eyes  and  broken  accents,  said  : 

"  God  bless  you,   Massa,   we'll  meet  in  heaven." 

"  I  may  forget  the  playfellows  of  my  childhood,  my 
academy  friends  and  classmates,  my  professional  associ 
ates,  my  comrades-in-arms,  but  I  will  remember  you  and 
your  benedictions  as  long  as  I  live,  and  may  the  kind 
Providence  which  forgets  not  the  sparrow,  shelter  and 
protect  you,"  was  his  message  to  them. 

If  our  Government  had  armed  the  blacks  and  sent  them 
into  the  war  as  many  believed  to  be  advisable,  it  is  prob 
able  that  much  sooner  would  the  sanguinary  struggle 
have  been  discontinued. 

Now  came  a  series  of  skirmishes,  with  success  about 


Defeat  and  Death.  417 

equally  divided.  General  McClellan  drove  the  rebels 
from  West  Virginia,  securing  national  recognition. 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  North  continued  unabated,  and 
soon  600,000  volunteers  were  in  military  service  for  the 
Government. 

"  We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  three  hundred 
thousand  strong,"  sang  the  legions  after  one  of  Lincoln's 
call  for  more  troops. 

The  Battle  of  Bull  Run  was  upon  us  when  Northern 
hopes  were  so  bright,  and  which  at  its  close  sent  terror 
and  dismay  into  every  loyal  heart. 

The  rebels  had  been  concentrating  their  forces  at 
Manassas  Junction,  twenty-five  miles  from  Washington. 

General  McDowell  commenced  to  move  the  Union 
army  towards  Manassas  July  i6th. 

When  the  army  advanced  all  the  friends  whom  we 
have  met  in  this  book  who  had  enlisted,  were  in  the  ranks ; 
Horace  Fuller  with  his  Philadelphia  Company ;  his  four 
brothers  including  Gerald,  in  a  New  York  regiment ; 

Captain  Joe  Slocum  with  his  men  of  the  First  Rhode 
Island ;  Sergeant  Fuller,  Jimmie  Smith,  and  Wendell 
Aldrich,  of  the  Second  Rhode  Island,  every  one  eager  to 
do  service  for  the  country  and  the  cause  of  liberty. 

"  On  to  Richmond,"  had  been  sounding  from  the 
North  for  weeks,  and  at  length  while  fearful  that  we 
might  not  be  fully  ready  to  cope  with  the  wily  foe,  who 
had  for  so  many  months  been  organizing,  General  Scott 
allowed  McDowell  to  advance  to  the  attack  with  45,000 
men. 

The  Confederates  had  a  larger  force,  with  a  division 
under  General  Beauregard,  later  re-enforced  by  the  di 
vision  under  General  Joe  Johnson,  from  the  Shenandoah 
Valley,  and  a  large  body  of  reserves  from  Richmond. 

As  the  Union  army  advanced  to  Fairfax  Court  House 
the  rebels  withdrew.  Our  cavalry  pushed  on  to  Center- 
ville.  Then  came  the  engagement  at  Blackburn's  Ford, 
July  2oth ;  McDowell  had  most  of  his  command  at 
Centerville  with  the  Confederates  seven  miles  away  at 
Manassas. 

The  stream  Bull  Run  is  crossed  by  a  road  three  miles 
from  Centerville,  the  Warrenton  turnpike  also  crosses 
27 


4i 8  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  stream,  and  passes  over  a  bridge  through  the 
village. 

Generals  Tyler's  and  Hunter's  divisions  took  position, 
the  former  on  the  east  slope  of  the  ridge,  north  of  the 
turnpike,  and  the  latter  on  the  turnpike  one  mile  east  of 
Centerville. 

Heintzelman's  division  was  on  the  old  Braddock  road, 
while  Miles'  division  was  on  the  same  road  further  away. 
It  was  a  cloudless  Sabbath  morning,  July  2ist,  when  the 
great  battle  began.  The  heat  under  the  Virginia  sum 
mer  sky  was  intense. 

McDowell  was  delayed  in  the  movement  of  his  troops. 
Some  had  been  marching  for  thirteen  hours  without  rest 
or  food. 

The  enemy  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
ground,  while  the  Union  men  were  not.  P.eauregard 
had  time  to  choose  his  position,  and  had  obtained  knowl 
edge  of  the  exact  number  of  our  forces.  He  also  had 
large  numbers  of  re-enforcements  in  reserve. 

General  Burnside  led  the  column  of  advance  on  that 
eventful  morning.  It  was  the  first  with  Captain  Rey 
nold's  battery  to  engage  the  enemy.  Samuel  Fuller  and 
his  friends,  with  Capt.  Joe  Slocum,  were  in  the  brigade. 

As  they  entered  the  battle  our  friends  were  variously 
affected.  Jimmie  Smith  grew  pale  as  death,  but  never 
thought  of  wavering. 

".Mother  will  want  me  to  be  brave,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Wendell  had  a  smile  on  his  face,  the  Puritan  blood 
tingling  in  his  veins. 

Samuel's  eye  was  full  of  fire.  His  face  lighted  up 
with  brave  determination.  He  said  to  the  boys  near  him, 
''"  Now,  boys,  the  crisis  has  come,  let  us  show  our 
mettle." 

With  his  mind  on  Rachel  he  plunged  into  the  fight. 
His  every  movement  was  like  lightning,  and  he  cheered 
on  the  men  about  him  with  tremendous  energy. 

"  We're  in  for  it  now,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  Sure  enough,  God  help  us,"  answered  Wendell. 

"  We  lead  the  advance,  and  they  say  we're  outnum 
bered,"  continued  Smith. 

"  Like  enough,"  said  Wendell. 


Defeat  and  Death.  419 

Rachel's  last  letter  was  ringing  in  Samuel's  ears.  "  I 
am  yours  always,  Samuel.  No  harm  nor  pain  can  come 
to  you  which  does  not  come  to  me.  Your  love  is  dearer 
than  all  else  in  the  world  to  me,  but  I  would  not  hold 
you  back  from  duty  in  the  cause  of  freedom.  My  pray 
ers  are  for  your  safety,  and  God's  blessing  upon  you." 

Thus  they  went  into  battle.  Just  over  there  wras  Cap 
tain  Joe  calling  "  Forward,  boys,  for  home,  country,  free 
dom,  and  the  old  flagjwe  fight  for  liberty  to-day!  " 

"  Aye !  aye !  Cap'un,"  shouted  Bob  Briggs,  "  we'll  give 
'em  hail  Columby  this  time." 

Those  Ashton  fellows  followed  Joe  closely,  Bob,  and 
son  Ben  Frank  fighting  with  great  heroism.  There 
wasn't  a  coward  in  the  company.  They  were  farmers  with 
nerver  of  steel,  sinews  of  iron,  and  courage  equal  to  the 
Old  Guard  of  Napoleon.  They  were  not  hirelings  fight 
ing  for  pay,  but  heroes  fighting  for  native  land,  and  the 
honor  of  the  dear  old  flag.  On  they  rushed  again  and 
again  leading  the  charge  on  that  sanguinary  battle-field, 
and  not  a  man  wavered. 

The  column  fought  the  enemy  forty-five  minutes  with 
out  support,  standing  up  bravely  under  a  heavy  fire. 

Samuel  distinguished  himself  by  his  fearless  exposure 
of  his  person,  leading  squads  of  men  in  the  front  ranks 
as  they  charged  up  the  height. 

"  Death  to  oppression  and  traitors,"  he  shouted,  and 
moved  on  as  if  bearing  a  charmed  life.  Burnside  en 
countered  a  vigorous  fire  of  artillery  and  infantry,  from 
an  almost  invisible  foe.  Shells  burst  about  them,  and 
bul'ets  whizzed  through  the  air. 

General  Tyler  watched  Burnside's  assailing  column, 
which  had  crossed  Sudley  Ford,  far  above  them,  drawing 
the  foe  down  towards  the  point  where  his  men  were  sta 
tioned.  He  immediately  put  his  troops  in  motion,  cross 
ing  the  Run  half  a  mile  above  the  Stone  bridge  and  cau 
tiously  entered  the  thickets,  which  surrounded  them, 
when  suddenly  a  voice  exclaimed. 

"  Now,  you  Yankee  devils,  we've  got  you  where  we 
want  to." 

A  battery  at  point-blank  range  opened  upon  them  a 
deadly  volley,  but  the  line  did  not  waver;  they  pressed 


420  Love  and  Liberty. 

bravely  on  driving"  the  rebels  before  them.  Still  the  fight 
went  on. 

Samuel  could  hear  Colonel  John  Slocum  calling  to 
his  regiment. 

"  Come  on,  boys,  you've  got  your  chance  at  last, 
victory  or  death ;  "  and  on  they  dashed.  The  batteries 
belched  their  messengers  of  death,  the  thunder  of  the 
artil'ery  fell  with  a  deafening  roar  upon  the  ear,  muskets 
rattled  ominously,  bayonets  Hashed  in  the  sunlight,  the 
cry  of  commanders  rent  the  air. 

During  one  charge  the  color-sergeant  fell  shot  to  death 
at  Samuel's  feet.  Samuel  grasped  the  beautiful  banner 
and  raised  it  aloft  crying,  "  The  flag  still  waves !  " — and 
marched  once  more  up  the  rebel  heights.  Jimmie  and 
Wendell  watched  him  hold  the  flag  till  it  was  riddled 
with  balls. 

A  heavy  fire  from  the  rebel  battery  poured  upon  them. 

"  Colonel  John  Slocum  is  killed !  "  cried  a  man  near 
Samuel.  It  was  true ;  the  brave  Colonel  fell  pierced  by 
a  musket  ball,  while  fighting  desperately. 

General  Tyler's  men  finally  reached  the  advance 
column  with  loss  of  numbers.  It  was  time,  for  Burnside 
was  sorely  pressed.  The  battle  was  ten  miles  in  length 
and  from  one  to  two  miles  in  breadth. 

"  Take  the  flag,  Wendell,  I  must  have  a  musket 
again  !  "  said  Samuel.  Wendell  took  the  banner. 

In  the  tumult  of  the  battle,  Samuel  at  length  became 
separated  with  a  squad  of  men  from  his  company,  and 
found  himself  fighting  with  the  Zouaves. 

Suddenly  the  rebel  Black  Horse  Guard,  a  splendid 
corps  of  cavalry,  every  man  mounted  on  a  black  horse, 
charged  upon  them  with  fearful  yells. 

"  Not  much,  my  laddies  !  "  sang  out  one  of  the  Zouaves. 
"  You  don't  beat  this  crowd  down !  "  The  Zouaves, 
Samuel  with  them,  drove  them  back ;  men  all  around 
fell  in  death  agony. 

Samuel  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight  fought  like  a  vet 
eran. 

"Forward,  boys!"  he  called  in  his  energetic  way. 
Such  was  the  fierceness  of  the  onset  the  Guard  was  re 
pulsed  with  heavy  loss. 


Defeat  and  Death.  421 

"  We've  won !  "  shouted  the  Zouaves,  and  plunged 
again  into  the  battle.  "  Where  are  you  from  ?  "  called 
out  one  of  them  to  Samuel. 

"  Second  Rhode  Island,  Burnside's  brigade,"  answered 
Sergeant  Fuller. 

"  Straggled  off,  haven't  you  ?  " 

Before  Samuel  could  answer,  there  came  a  cavalry 
charge.  At  first  they  thought  it  was  a  Union  company, 
for  the  horsemen  carried  the  stars  and  stripes,  but  just 
as  the  horses  reached  them,  the  rebel  flag  \vas  raised 
instead,  and  the  Zouaves  saw  it  was  the  Black  Horse 
Guard  with  re-enforcements. 

"  All  right,"  veiled  the  New  Yorkers.  "  Want  to  try  it 
again  do  you?  We'll  settle  your  hash  this  time  we 
reckon !  " 

Then  the  slaughter  began,  Samuel  in  the  midst.  It 
was  terrible ;  no  quarter,  no  halting,  no  flinching  marked 
the  death-dealing  blows  as  they  closed  in  upon  each  other 
mutually  mad  and  desperate.  The  brave  fellows  fell,  and 
the  ranks  filled  up.  Sabers,  bowie-knives  and  bayonets 
glistened  in  the  burning  sun ;  horse  after  horse  went 
down,  platoon  after  platoon  melted  away,  the  carnage 
was  fearful. 

Samuel  was  beside  himself  with  excitement.  Shells 
were  bursting  all  around  him,  but  he  heeded  it  not.  He 
fought  those  men  on  horseback  to  the  death.  He 
bayoneted  horse  after  horse,  and  man  after  man.  Fear 
did  not  enter  his  composition.  His  strength  and  endur 
ance  appeared  miraculous. 

One  of  the  men,  struck  his  bayonet  with  a  sword.  The 
force  of  the  blow  loosened  Samuel's  hold.  The  man  saw 
his  advantage  and  raised  his  sword  to  strike  him  down, 
but  Samuel  quick  as  a  flash  recovered  his  poise,  received 
the  blow  on  his  musket,  and  bayoneted  his  assailant,  tear 
ing  him  from  the  horse,  sending  him  to  his  death. 

"  I  hate  to  do  it,  my  man,  but  it's  in  the  cause  of  lib 
erty,"  he  shouted  through  his  set  teeth. 

"  Brave  fellow,  Sergeant !  "  cried  the  Guardsman  in 
his  death  agonies. 

The  struggle  ended  at  last,  and  the  Zouaves  had  won ! 

Again  our   hero  rushed   into  the  battle.     Who   shall 


422  Love  and  Liberty. 

describe  the  dreadful  scene.  The  movements  of  minor 
divisions,  the  acts  of  heroism,  the  surgings  to  and  fro, 
the  charges,  surprises,  retreats  before  overpowering 
numbers,  the  rush  of  re-enforcements,  and  the  renewed 
onslaught,  and  yet  all  to  no  purpose. 

Men  never  fought  more  bravely  than  our  men  that  day, 
but  as  they  drove  the  foe  before  them,  new  batteries 
manned  by  fresh  troops  opened  upon  our  ranks  with 
deadly  effect.  There  was  a  time  when  every  movement  of 
the  Union  army  prospered.  The  rebels  abandoned  height 
after  height,  not  able  to  stand  the  fire  of  our  cannon,  nor 
the  impetuous  charge  of  the  Union  troops. 

The  enemy  was  driven  from  their  batteries  and  fast 
nesses,  two  miles  down  the  Run  and  across  the  \Ynrren- 
ton  road,  contesting  every  foot,  but  our  men  marched 
boldly  into  their  entrenchments  and  drove  them  from 
their  positions  three  miles  away. 

Captain  Horace  Fuller  at  the  head  of  his  company 
fought  like  a  madman.  He  was  used  to  fighting  under 
old  John  Brown,  and  gave  no  quarter.  In  the  front, 
sword  in  hand,  he  led  them  into  the  horrors  of  the 
dreadful  conflict. 

'  There  goes  the  Sixty-ninth  Xew  York !  "  cried  one 
of  his  men,  "  the  regiment  your  brothers  are  in  !  " 

"  That's  the  eighth  time  they've  taken  that  position," 
answered  Horace. 

"  They're  getting  used  up,  I  think,"  returned  the  man  ; 
"  they  appear  exhausted  and  some  lie  panting  upon  the 
ground  ;  there  go  the  rebels  again,  bound  to  recapture  it." 

"  We'll  help  the  Sixty-ninth  Xew  York,"  returned 
Horace. 

"  Company  advance  !  " 

Other  companies  of  the  regiment  joined  them.  They 
rushed  through  the  smoke  of  conflict,  swept  up  the  hill 
like  a  whirlwind  and  unfurled  the  flag  over  the  captured 
guns. 

'  Three  cheers  for  the  old  flag!  "  cried  Horace. 

They  were  given  with  a  will  and  blended  exultantly  in 
the  roar  of  battle. 

As  the  patriot  army  advanced,  rebel  re-enforcements 
kept  coming. 


Defeat  and  Death.  423 

The  battle  had  been  well  planned,  and  gloriously 
fought,  and  yet  disaster  came  to  Union  arms. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  Union  men  felt 
sure  of  victory.  Generals  were  at  the  front  sharing  the 
perils  with  their  men.  The  soldiers  appeared  calm  and 
fearless.  The  rear  of  the  field  was  filled  with  the  dead 
and  dying. 

In  a  lull,  Samuel,  who  had  found  his  company  again, 
saw  some  men  pass  by  carrying  a  wounded  captain  on  a 
litter. 

'  There's  Bob  Briggs,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and  his  son 
Ben  Frank." 

"  Why,  Bob,  what's  happened  ?  " 

"  Captain  Joe's  mortally  wounded,  we're  carryin'  him 
to  the  rear,"  answered  Bob,  and  the  tears  ran  down  the 
brave  fellow's  face. 

"  He  fit  like  a  tiger,  Sergeant,  the  Surgeon  says  he's 
done  for,  can't  live  but  a  few  hours.  O,  sir,  he'd  bin  a 
gm'rel  sure,  if  he  hadn't  got  hit." 

Samuel  spoke  to  Joe,  but  at  that  time  he  didn't  appear 
to  be  conscious. 

"  My  God,  what  will  his  folks  say  ?  "  said  Samuel,  as 
Bob  moved  on  with  his  burden. 

When  the  Union  troops  were  exhausted  a  portion  of 
Johnson's  division  reached  the  Confederates.  This 
dense  body  of  fresh  troops  marched  down  upon  the  field. 
Ten  thousand  men  appeared  in  a  new  line  of  battle  and 
twenty  thousand  more  enclosed  our  men  within  three 
sides  of  a  hollow  square,  a  mass  of  cavalry  occupying  the 
center. 

Our  legions  were  awe-struck  at  the  sight,  and  ap 
peared  dazed  at  the  unexpected  re-enforcements  to  the 
rebels. 

The  retreat  began,  protected  by  Burnside's  gallant 
brigade,  and  Governor  Sprague's  Rhode  Island  men. 

Col.  John  Slocum  was  borne  by  his  men  to  the  rear  and 
they  cried  over  the  dead  body. 

Samuel,  with  Jimmie  Smith,  was  aiding  in  every  pos 
sible  way,  when  Jimmie  gave  a  cry. 

"I'm  hit,  Samuel;  tell  mother  I  fought  the  best  I 
could." 


424  Love  and  Liberty. 

Samuel  and  Wendell  bore  him  between  them,  others 
came  to  their  help. 

Soon  the  retreat  became  a  rout.  Shells  from  the  Con 
federates  constantly  exploded  in  the  ranks.  The  wild 
throng'  became  frantic.  Scenes  of  horror  ensued. 

Every  man  appeared  to  be  thinking  of  his  own  safely, 
though  that  was  not  really  true. 

Some  cried  piteously  for  help,  and  frenzy  seized  men. 
Some  sought  to  clamber  into  wagons,  the  occupants  re 
sisting  them  with  bayonets.  The  sentiment  of  shame 
fled. 

Many  of  the  better  men  sought  to  withstand  the  rush 
and  cried  against  the  flying  groups,  calling  them  "  cow 
ards,  poltroons,  brutes,"  reviling  them  for  degrading 
themselves  with  the  enemy  so  near. 

The  New  York  Zouaves,  with  some  others,  were  ex 
ceptions  to  the  general  spirit  of  fear. 

When  the  order  was  given  at  headquarters  to  retreat, 
*  "  Do  not,"  exclaimed  a  score  of  "  pet  lambs  "  in  a 
breath.  "  Do  not." 

"  We  are  ordered  to  retreat,"  the  commander  said  to 
his  Zouaves. 

"  Wot'n  thunder's  that?"  inquired  one  of  the  hard 
heads. 

"  Go  back — retire,"  continued  the  officer. 

"  Go  back— where?  " 

"  Leave  the  field." 

"  Leave?  Why,  that  ain't  what  we  come  for. 
"  We're  here  to  fight,"  insisted  the  man. 

"  We  came  here  with  one  thousand  and  forty  men," 
said  the  commander,  "  and  there  are  now  six  hundred 
left.  Fall  back,  boys,"  and  the  lambs  sulkily  retired, 
greatly  displeased. 

The  fighting  of  the  Zouaves  had  been  among  the  most 
heroic  exhibitions  of  bravery  which  the  world  has  ever 
known. 

The  General  of  Horace  Fuller's  brigade  sent  word  that 
he  must  retreat. 

"  Retreat !  "  said  Horace  in  a  voice  of  thunder  to  the 

*  See  our  First  Century. 


Defeat  and  Death.  425 

messenger.  "No,  sir!  we're  here  to  fight  and  win; 
bring  me  word  to  go  on,  sir !  " 

The  command,  however,  was  imperative,  and  Captain 
Horace  yielded  under  protest. 

Samuel  wrote  his  father  after  the  battle  of  that  terrible 
retreat  as  follows : 


"  Hosts  of  Federal  troops  all  detached  from  their  reg 
iments  mingled  in  one  disorderly  rout  for  three  miles. 

"  They  fled  along  the  roads  and  through  lots,  army 
wagons,  sutlers'  teams,  and  private  carriages  choked  the 
passage,  tumbling  against  each  other,  amid  clouds  of  dust, 
and  sickening  sights  and  sounds.  Horses  flying  wildly 
from  the  field,  galloped  at  random,  joining  the  stampede. 

"  Wounded  men  lying  along  the  way  appealed  with 
raised  hands  to  those  who  rode  horses,  begging  to  be 
lifted  behind.  Wendell  and  I  were,  with  help  of  some 
others,  carrying  Jimmie  with  us,  who  had  been  hit  with 
the  piece  of  a  shell  just  as  the  retreat  began. 

"  I  succeeded  in  capturing  one  of  the  horses  which 
had  a  bridle  and  jumped  on  to  his  back;  Jimmie  was 
handed  up.  Wendell  jumped  on  behind,  and  thus  we 
rode  to  Centerville,  where  the  sight  of  Miles'  reserve 
marshaled  on  the  hill  checked  the  rout. 

'  The  enemy  was  probably  afraid  of  the  reserve  forces 
and  did  not  pursue. 

"  Jimmie  is  in  the  hospital  here,  and  I  think  will  re 
cover  all  right. 

"  Your  dear  friend,  Captain  Joe  Slocum,  fell  mortally 
wounded  and  has  since  died.  I  send  the  messages  and 
body  to  his  wife,  the  saddest  thing  in  all  my  life,  God 
pity  them  all. 

'  I  found  on  reaching  the  hospital  with  Jimmie  that 
I  had  a  slight  flesh  wound  in  the.  leg ;  I  remember  feeling 
a  stinging  sensation  at  one  time  while  fighting  some  rebel 
cavalry,  but  really  didn't  know  that  I  was  hit.  The  bullet 
is  extracted,  and  the  leg  will  heal  in  a  few  days.  My 
best  love  to  you  all.  SAMUEL." 

Captain  Joe's  wound  was  on  this  wise.    He  was  struck 


426  Love  and  Liberty. 

by  a  hall  and  fell.  "  Our  Cap'n's  killed,"  exclaimed  Bob 
Briggs. 

'  No,  he's  not  killed,"  cried  Joe,  springing  to  his  feet. 
He  felt  in  his  breast  pocket,  pulled  out  the  little  Bible, 
and  there  was  the  spent  ball  lodged  in  the  leaves  of  the 
precious  book. 

"  Forward  for  God  and  liberty,"  shouted  Joe  to  his 
men,  replacing  the  sacred  book. 

Waving  his  sword  Joe  led  his  men  again  to  battle,  but 
when  they  returned  from  the  charge,  their  captain  fell, 
while  Bob  and  Ben  Frank,  as  we  have  seen,  carried  him 
to  the  rear ;  he  lived  long  enough  at  the  hospital  to  send 
messages  to  his  wife  and  children,  then  peacefully  died 
with  a  smile  on  his  lips. 

Bess  Slocum  with  her  children  in  Ashton  received 
cheerful  letters  from  Captain  Joe. 

After  a  while  she  grew  accustomed  to  his  absence  and 
her  added  duties.  They  sent  several  boxes  of  useful 
articles  to  Joe  at  the  front,  and  wrote  him  that  matters 
went  on  well  at  the  old  homestead. 

Joe  had  written  Bess  that  a  great  battle  was  coming, 
and  Bess  was  full  of  anxiety  concerning  her  husband's 
safety.  She  had  kept  informed  of  the  preceding  attacks 
before  Bull  Run  w.as  reached  and  always  examined  first 
ihe  list  of  wounded,  killed  and  missing. 

One  day  when  the  paper  came  she  said,  "  Look  at  the 
list  of  names,  Freddie,  and  see  if  father  is  all  right." 

Freddie  read  name  after  name,  and  down  towards  the 
bottom  of  the  list  came  to  his  father's  name,  among  the 
mortally  wounded. 

Bess  gave  a  startled  cry  of  pain,  like  some  wounded 
animal.  Little  Bess  summoned  the  Judge  and  his  wife: 
Johnny  commenced  to  cry. 

The  Judge  turned  the  paper  and  read  the  account  of 
the  battle.  It  said  that  Captain  Joe  Slocum  of  Ashtou 
had  fallen  at  the  head  of  his  company,  bravely  fighting. 

"  I  knew  it,  wife,"  said  the  Judge.  "  T  knew  the  day 
he  left  us,  we'd  never  see  our  boy  again,  but  Joe  was  no 
coward.  He  dies  that  the  country  may  live,  and  slavery 
be  abolished." 


Defeat  and  Death.  427 

"Oh,  my  husband!  my  husband!"  cried  Bess.  "If 
I  could  only  have  been  with  you  in  the  dying  hour !  " 

A  few  days  later  came  a  letter  from  Samuel  with  the 
dying-  message,  and  the  little  Bible  with  the  bullet  em 
bedded  in  its  pages. 

Reaching  the  hospital  with  Jimmie,  Joe  died  soon  after 
Samuel  arrived. 

"  Tell  father  and  mother  I  die  in  the  cause  of  freedom. 
I'll  be  at  the  gate  to  welcome  them  when  they  come.  Tell 
Bess  and  the  children  it's  all  right.  I  did  the  best  I 
couM.  I  read  the  little  Bible  and  didn't  forget  to  pray, 
God  will  take  care  of  you  all. 

'  Tell  Little  Bess  to  be  a  good  girl  and  always  look  out 
for  her  mama,  and  Freddie  and  Johnny  to  grow  up  noble 
men,  and  meet  me,  all  of  you,  in  Heaven.  Papa  is  going 
where  the  people  shall  have  war  no  more  and  where  the 
inhabitants  never  say,  '  I  am  sick,'  where  the  tears  are 
wiped  away  from  all  faces  and  separations  never  come." 

When  Joe's  body  reached  Ashton  the  people  for  miles 
around  turned  out  at  the  funeral,  for  Joe  was  known  and 
loved  by  all. 

They  gave  him  a  soldier's  burial,  and  to-day  there  is 
no  more  sacred  spot  in  all  the  country  churchyard  than 
the  place  where  he  quietly  sleeps. 

By  his  side  lies  the  Judge,  who  died  just  a  month  after 
Joe  was  buried. 


428  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXYII. 

THE    LOST    RELATIVE. 

JUST  before  midnight  April  24,  1862,  two  sailors  on 
board  the  flagship  Hartford,  Commodore  Farragut  in 
command,  were  in  conversation.  "  Ensign  Gardiner. 
Farragut  is  in  the  fore-rigging  watching  through  his 
night  glass." 

"  He's  all  right,  Ellis.  All  the  three  divisions  of  ships 
are  nearly  ready  for  the  run." 

"  We're  going  slow  enough,  not  more  than  four  knots 
an  hour,"  said  Ellis. 

"  \Ye'll  get  there  in  due  time  with  Farragut  in  com 
mand,"  returned  Gardiner. 

"Think  the  forts  will  he  ready  for  us?" 

"  Likely,"  was  the  answer.  "  Commander  Porter  has 
been  bombarding  them  for  nearly  a  week.  They  won't 
be  caught  napping  after  that." 

"  We're  surely  going  up,  you  think  ?  " 

"  Sure  as  shooting,"  replied  Gardiner.  "  Farragut 
swore  he's  going  up  to  New  Orleans  and  he'll  go,  make 
up  your  mind  to  that." 

Just  then  Farragut  signaled  to  Gardiner. 

"  Aye !  aye !  sir,"  replied  the  ensign. 

"  Getting  everything  ready  ?  " 

"  All  ready,  Commodore,"  was  the  reply.  "  Do  you 
think  our  fleet  strong  enough  to  get  by  the  forts,  sir? 
They  are  only  wooden  ships,  Commodore.  If  they  were 
only  iron  we  might  win." 

"Dei'il  take  the  iron  ships.  Gardiner.  Fir  got  wooden 
ships,  and  iron  men,  and  I'm  going  to  pass  those  forts, 
or  sink  every  vessel  in  the  fleet!" 

"  Success  to  you,  sir !  "  came  the  answer. 

"  Those  infernal  rafts  bother  us  as  much  as  the  forts. 


The  Lost  Relative.  429 

They  block  the  river  path.  Are  the  squadrons  coming?  " 
continued  Farragut. 

"  Not  yet,  sir,"  answered  the  Ensign. 

Farragut  had  decided  to  run  past  the  rebel  batteries 
and  capture  New  Orleans  a  hundred  miles  up  the  Mis 
sissippi. 

As  Gardiner  stated,  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Jackson 
and  Fort  Philip  had  continued  several  days.  Our  fleets 
had  been  greatly  troubled  by  large  rafts  which  the  rebels 
had  constructed  to  block  the  river. 

Now  everything  was  ready,  General  Butler  co-operat 
ing  had  gone  on  board  the  SaZon,  and  the  fleet  of  Union 
warships  were  divided  into  three  squadrons. 

It  had  been  a  dark  night,  the  moon  rising  about  3  A.  M. 

Every  officer  was  at  his  post,  the  mortar-sloops  firing 
occasionally  at  the  forts. 

At  ii  o'clock,  the  Itasca,  in  Captain  Bell's  division, 
which  was  to  keep  the  middle  of  the  river,  had  an 
nounced  that  the  opening  in  the  cable  was  still  unclosed. 
An  hour  after  midnight  steam  was  up,  and  at  two  A.  M. 
the  flagship  Hartford  gave  the  signal  to  weigh  anchor 
and  Farragut's  division  was  ready. 

Captain  Bailey's  division  was  farther  away  but  came 
abreast  of  Farragut  about  3.30  o'clock,  when  both  divis 
ions  moved  slowly  and  silently  up  the  river. 

The  Cayuga  under  Bailey  went  ahead  and  was  seen  by 
the  rebels,  who  opened  fire  from  both  forts,  which  how 
ever  did  our  ship  little  harm. 

"  Run  the  ship  close  under  Fort  Philip,  left  bank," 
called  Captain  Bailey. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir !  "  responded  the  pilot. 

"  Now  then,  give  it  to  them,  grape  and  canister,"  cried 
the  master. 

A  terrific  broadside  poured  into  the  fort. 

"  Cast  loose  and  provide,  run  in,  sponge  out  the  guns," 
sang  out  the  master  again. 

"  Heave  ho,  load,  run  out,  sight,"  he  called. 

"  All  ready,"  cried  the  captain  of  the  guns. 

"Fire!" 

Out  blazed  the  guns,  sending  shells  of  death  into  the 
rebel  fort. 


430  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  other  ships  came  up  and  sent  broadside  after 
broadside  into  the  forts,  and  at  length  P>ailey's  division 
had  passed  without  serious  injury. 

Captain  Bell's  division  however  had  less  success. 
Several  ships  passed  unharmed,  but  not  the  Itasca. 

When  the  latter  ship  was  opposite  Fort  Philip  a  ter 
rible  fire  opened  upon  her  deck.  The  shells  burst  all 
about  them.  Time  after  time  the  rebels  trained  their 
guns  against  the  Union  vessel.  One  of  the  shells  pierced 
her  boiler.  ^ 

"  Starboard  the  helm !  "  signaled  the  captain. 

"  She  drifts  down  the  river !  "  cried  the  master. 

"  A  parting  salute,  my  lads." 

Again  the  gunners,  even  in  the  damaged  condition  of 
the  ship,  ran  out  the  guns. 

"  Ready !  "  called  the  captain. 

"Sight!    Fire!"  yelled  the  master. 

"  We've  hit  'em  solid  this  time,"  the  jackies  cried. 

At  this  point  in  the  fight,  the  IVinona  pouring  broad 
sides  into  the  fort,  attempted  to  pass,  but  a  perfect 
shower  of  shells  rained  upon  her. 

"  To  the  guns !  "  rang  out  the  master's  voice. 

The  order  was  obeyed,  and  the  men  loaded  and  fired, 
run  in,  and  fired  again,  but  all  without  avail.  The  forts 
had  discovered  their  range  and  drove  the  ship  back. 

In  the  midst  of  this  fight,  some  one  signa'ed. 

'  The  Kcnncbcc  is  caught  in  the  cable !  " 

It  was  true;  and  when  she  was  liberated  she  lost  her 
way,  in  the  dense  smoke,  finally  returning  to  anchorage 
below  the  forts. 

The  special  interest  of  our  readers  is  directed  to  the 
Hartford,  where  Farragut  was  watching  every  visible 
movement. 

He  was  to  deal  with  Fort  Jackson  on  the  west  side. 

When  within  a  mile  of  the  fort  they  opened  a  terrific 
fire  upon  the  devoted  ship.  The  deafening  roar  of  the 
great  guns  belching  forth  their  missiles  of  death  sent 
terror  into  men's  hearts. 

At  the  very  first  discharge  the  master,  John  Han 
cock,  was  struck  and  the  larger  part  of  his  leg  taken 
away. 


The  Lost  Relative.  431 

"  Ensign  Gardiner  will  act  as  master,"  signaled  Far- 
ragut. 

"  Aye,   aye,   sir !  "   called   Gardiner. 

"  Make  ready  the  forecastle  guns,"  he  called. 

The  gunners  obeyed. 

The  quarter-deck  was  cleared  for  action,  with  port 
holes  ready. 

Then  came  Gardiner's  commands  rapidly. 

"  Cast  loose  and  provide." 

"  Run  in  the  guns." 

"  Load." 

"  Run  out." 

"  Sight,"  and  then  the  men  at  the  guns  called, 
"  Ready !  " 

"Fire!" 

And  the  broadsides  were  poured  with  deadly  effect 
into  Fort  Jackson. 

The  fire,  however,  was  returned  with  much  precision 
and  effect. 

When  within  half  a  mile  of  the  fort,  Farragut  sheered 
and  gave  the  signal  for  general  action. 

Every  gun  on  the  Hartford  was  put  in  operation.  The 
men  trained  them  upon  the  fort,  great  drops  of  sweat 
rolling  from  their  bodies,  while  engaged  in  the  fearful 
fight. 

The  ships  had  been  armored  with  heavv  chains,  and  a 
netting  of  rope,  placed  to  catch  any  falling  spars,  but 
such  slight  protection  was  almost  useless  against  the 
terrible  sliells. 

To  add  to  the  danger,  the  rebel  gunboats,  of  which 
the  river  seemed  full,  turned  their  attention  to  the 
Hartford. 

"  Stand  to  the  guns,"  called  Gardiner. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  responded  the  gunners. 

"  Give  it  to  them,  boys,"  yelled  Ellis,  who  commanded 
one  of  the  guns. 

'  To  death  with  the  rebels,"  called  one  of  the  men. 

The  gunboats  sent  their  showers  of  red-hot  shells  to 
ward  the  flagship,  and  the  thunder  of  the  conflict  was 
appalling. 

Shot  and  shell  were  flying  and  bursting  in  all  direc- 


432  Love  and  Liberty. 

tions :  the  fire  rafts  were  filling  the  river.  Boats  were 
mantled  to  fight  the  fire-rafts,  while  the  bells  rang  the 
alarms.  It  was  a  grand  sight  with  the  blazing  light, 
looming  up  against  the  black  sky. 

The  mortar  fleet  was  doing  fearful  execution,  throw 
ing  shells  into  the  forts. 

One  of  the  rebel  shells  struck  the  forecastle  of  the 
Hartford,  but  the  protecting  chains  turned  it  aside ;  an 
other  struck  under  gun  Xo.  2,  but  did  no  damage. 

"  The  gunboats  are  peppering  us,"  cried  Ellis. 

"  Let  them  pepper  us,  we'll  send  them  to  purgatory  in 
a  jiffy,"  returned  Gardiner. 

"  Make  it  hot  for  them,  boys !  " 

At  this  instant  a  bursting  shell  cut  the  spar  netting, 
mizzen-topmast  back  stays,  took  the  water  tank  on  the 
starboard  side,  and  went  through  the  deck  splitting 
beams  and  landed  in  the  bins. 

"  The  grape  and  canister  now,  boys,  never  mind  the 
bursting  shell !  "  cried  Gardiner,  wild  with  excitement. 

"  Once  again,  men !  "  he  shouted,  repeating  the  order. 

As  Gardiner  spoke  a  gunboat  ran  afoul  of  the  ship, 
wounding  four  men,  and  carried  away  the  gunboat's 
foremast. 

"  Tear  her  away,  strike  her  off,  sink  her !  "  yelled  Gar 
diner. 

The  men  sent  a  broadside  into  her  and  she  sank  almost 
immediately. 

"  Good,"  exclaimed  Gardiner.  "  Here  come  more  of 
the  fleet." 

Other  ships  engaged  the  rebel  gunboats,  and  after  a 
desperate  encounter  sank  nearly  a!l  of  them. 

As  Ensign  Gardiner,  strong  and  muscular,  fought  the 
rebels  that  night,  his  soul  seemed  filled  with  a  strange 
fire.  He  spurred  on  his  men,  cheered  them  as  they 
rammed  home  balls,  and  encouraged  them  with  mad  de 
termination. 

"  For  Union,  for  liberty,  for  the  country  and  the  flag," 
he  shouted. 

"  We're  going  up  to  Xew  Orleans,  rebels  or  no  rebels, 
forts  or  no  forts,  gunboats  or  no  gunboats,  fire-rafts  or 
no  fire-rafts. 


The  Lost  Relative.  433 

"  Lively,  lads,  that's  it.    Once  more  to  the  battle !  " 

"  Steady  there,  fire!" 

These  sailor-boys  were  trained  to  service.  In  their  ex 
citement  they  fought  like  madmen.  "  No  quarter  to  the 
rebels,"  they  cried,  "  Fort  Jackson  must  go.  Master 
Gardiner  is  going  to  New  Orleans,  and  Commodore  Far- 
ragut  is  in  the  rigging." 

"Here  we  go."    Boom!  boom!  boom!  went  the  guns. 

In  the  blazing  light  of  fire,  Gardiner  saw  the  rebel 
river  steamships  filled  with  troops. 

"  Down  with  the  rebs,  boys,"  he  cried.  "  Turn  your 
guns  into  them." 

Two  terrible  broadsides  appeared  to  sweep  every  rebel 
soldier  into  the  river.  Their  yells  were  heard  in  wild 
frenzy  above  the  din  of  the  fearful  battle. 

Yet  still,  boom!  boom!  boom!  went  the  terrible  guns, 
and  the  carnage  became  more  and  more  fearful. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  hell  of  horror  and  death,  the 
rebel  ram  Manassas  came  down  the  river  on  fire. 

"  She's  butting  into  our  starboard  gangway,"  cried 
Ellis. 

The  shock  was  great  as  she  collided  with  the  Hartford, 
opened  the  iron  trapdoor,  and  struck  her  smoke-stack 
with  a  heavy  bolt. 

"  Avast  there,"  cried  Gardiner  as  the  Hartford  re 
covered  herself  and  the  ram  slipped  off  into  the  dark 
ness. 

Yet  still  the  battle  went  on.  The  Hartford's  guns 
were  making  havoc  with  Fort  Jackson. 

"  They're  running  from  the  barbette  guns,"  shouted 
Ellis. 

:<  The  casemates  are  holding  well,  though,"  said  Gar 
diner. 

'  They  are  plucky  if  they  are  rebs." 

"  At  that  moment  a  terrific  sheet  of  flame  burst  from 
the  fort,  and  an  instant  later  the  great  shells  struck  the 
Hartford  with  fearful  force.  One  of  them  burst  into 
fragments,  scattering  its  deadly  fiery  pieces  among  the 
gallant  crew.  Groans  and  yells  succeeded  as  half  a 
dozen  men  fell  on  the  quarterdeck,  some  of  them  writh 
ing  in  fearful  agony. 
28 


434  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Ensign  Gardiner  is  badly  wounded,"  shrieked  Ellis, 
above  the  roar  of  the  booming  guns. 

Farragut  turned  and  saw  the  ensign  lying  on  the 
deck,  covered  with  blood.  He  had  been  hit  with  a  piece 
of  shell. 

"  Carry  him  below,"  called  Farragut,  "  he  ha?  fought 
bravely  this  night." 

Two  men  bore  the  blcoclinp.  form  to  the  sick-bay,  and 
he  was  examined  by  the  surgeon.  Pie  was  conscious  but 
suffering  great  pain. 

"  How  is  it,  surgeon?  "  he  faintly  asked. 

'  The  shell  has  torn  a  bad  hole  in  your  breast,  ensign, 
but  I  think  we  can  save  you." 

The  blood  flowed  a  stream,  but  with  some  effort  was 
staunched. 

"  At  all  events  we  gave  them  as  good  as  they  sent," 
said  Gardiner. 

"  You've  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to-night, 
ensign,  if  what  the  men  say  is  true,"  replied  the  surgeon. 

As  the  men  carried  Gardiner  below,  one  of  the  fire- 
rafts  was  pushed  down  upon  the  Hartford  by  a  rebel 
ram. 

"  Avoid  the  raft,"  called  Farragut,  but  it  was  too  late. 
The  ship  was  run  ashore,  but  the  fire-raft  was  pushed 
alongside.  In  a  moment  the  port  side  was  ablaze  half 
way  up  the  main  and  mizzen  masts. 

Ellis  headed  the  band  of  Jackies  who  fought  the  fire 
desperately,  and  it  was  finally  extinguished.  Mean 
while  the  ship  was  pouring  shells  into  the  fort  and  the 
fort  into  her.  At  length  the  fire  slackened,  the  smoke 
cleared,  the  Hartford  backed  off,  and  the  forts  were 
passed !  Just  as  they  passed,  Ellis  called  out,  "  Look  at 
Fort  Jackson."  One  of  their  shells  had  exploded  inside 
the  fort,  near  the  large  wooden  buildings  where  the 
troops  were  quartered,  and  the  flames  blazed  up.  lighting 
the  grand  and  awful  scene  with  magnificent  display  and 
making  a  wierd  and  ghastly  spectacle. 

General  Lovell.  in  command  of  the  rebels  at  Xew 
Orleans  and  vicinity,  had  witnessed  some  of  the  combat 
of  our  fleet  with  the  forts,  went  to  the  city  on  horseback, 
narrowly  escaping  capture  on  the  way,  and  aranged  for 


The  Lost  Relative.  435 

General  Smith  to  make  all  possible  resistance  at  the  earth- 
vorks  below  the  city.  He  tried  to  raise  one  thousand 
volunteers  to  carry  our  vessel  by  assault,  but  they  could 
not  be  found.  The  authorities  at  New  Orleans  knew  that 
their  case  was  hopeless.  They  sent  away  munitions  and 
provisions,  dispersed  the  militia,  and  sent  off  soldiers  to 
Camp  Moore,  seventy-eight  miles  above  the  city. 

"  Commodore,  what's  that  coining  down  the  river?" 
asked  Ellis,  touching  his  cap. 

"  Cotton-ships  on  fire,  as  sure  as  you  live,"  exclaimed 
Farragut. 

Sure  enough,  the  rebels  knowing  that  the  city  could  not 
be  saved,  piled  their  ships  with  cotton  and  other  valu 
ables,  set  them  on  fire  and  sent  them  down  the  river. 

Farragut  said,  "  I  never  saw  such  vandalism  in  my 
life.  They  are  destroying  their  property  so  that  we  shall 
not  profit  by  it." 

Down  the  river,  wrapped  in  flame,  came  the  mute  but 
vivid  witnesses  of  the  enemy's  despair. 

The  earthworks  below  the  city  came  into  view.  The 
Cayitga  ahead  did  not  observe  the  signal  for  close  order, 
and  was  exposed  for  twenty  minutes  to  the  galling  fire 
of  the  rebel  batteries. 

The  Hartford  then  came  up  and  plunged  into  the  fight. 
Farragut  gave  the  command. 

"  Men  at  the  guns,  give  them  broadsides  of  shell." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  came  the  response  as  the  order  was 
obeyed. 

"  Now  then,  yeomen,  send  the  shrapnel  and  grape." 

The  deadly  missiles  whistled  through  the  air,  and  si 
lenced  the  forts. 

With  Union  flags  flying,  and  bands  playing,  Farragut's 
ship  leading  the  way,  the  fleet  sailed  into  New  Orleans 
harbor  with  booming  of  guns,  and  anchored  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  thunder-storm. 

In  this  Southern  city  where  the  cries  of  suffering 
slaves  for  two  centuries  had  reached  into  God's  ear,  was 
now  anchored  that  masterly  fleet  representing  Union  and 
freedom,  with  the  immortal  Farragut  in  command.  Thus 
the  great  slave  mart  came  into  the  possession  of  the 
Union  forces. 


436  Love  and  Liberty. 

General  Butler  from  the  Sa.rton  saw  Farragut's  suc 
cess,  and  hastened  to  join  his  land  forces  with  the  naval 
power  to  wholly  subdue  and  bring  to  terms  the  rebel  city. 

"  No  flag  must  be  displayed  here  but  the  flag  of  the 
Union,"  ordered  Butler.  But  no  attention  was  given  to 
the  command,  and  rebel  flags  were  floating  all  over  the 
city. 

"  Where's  the  old  cock-eye?  Let  me  see  the  devilish 
rascal."  cried  one.  Others  shouted  :  "  Hurrah  for  Jeff 
Davis !  "  "  Hurrah  for  Beauregard  !  "  "  Go  home,  you 
blasted  Yankees."  Fifty  thousand  of  the  venomous 
rebels,  with  black  oaths  and  curses,  cried  out  against 
Union  occupation  of  the  city. 

May  i,  in  the  afternoon,  General  Butler  disembarked 
his  troops,  pressing  the  crowd  back  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet.  He  and  his  staff  marched  on  foot  at  the  head 
of  two  regiments.  The  bands  struck  up  "  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,"  the  mob  pouring  their  vile  epithets 
into  the  ears  of  the  Union  soldiers,  as  they  went  to  the 
unfinished  custom  house,  where  the  artillery  was  posted 
and  our  men  quartered. 

Butler  proclaimed  martial  law  throughout  the  city,  and 
after  numerous  insults  by  the  unscrupulous  rebel  women, 
issued  his  famous  order  concerning  them. 

The  rebel  Governor  of  Louisiana  subjected  the  order 
to  the  worst  possible  construction,  as  did  also  Mayor 
Munroe.  Butler  at  last  was  obliged  to  send  Mayor 
Munroe  to  prison,  abolish  his  municipality  and  appoint 
Col.  G.  F.  Shepley  military  commandant,  after  which 
great  improvement  of  the  government  came  to  New 
Orleans,  and  its  inhabitants  obtained  peace  and  security. 

After  New  Orleans  was  completely  occupied  by  the 
Union  forces,  Farragut  moved  on  to  Baton  Rouge,  the 
state  Capital,  which  was  soon  taken. 

Ensign  Thomas  Gardiner,  on  board  the  Hartford,  was 
the  long-lost  brother  of  Lucy  Gardiner,  now  Mrs.  fames 
Puller  of  Seai'ieii.1. 

His  wound  was  serious,  but  not  fatal.  Bravely  he  bore 
the  pain,  and  with  cheerfulness  greeted  Fllis  and  his 
companions.  Soon  afterwards  he  was  conveyed  by  ves 
sel  to  Fortress  Monroe  and  placed  under  hospital  care, 


The  Lost  Relative.  437 

but  as  we  shall  learn,  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  re 
gained  health  and  strength. 

On  board  the  Minnesota  at  Fortress  Monroe  was  the 
brave  veteran,  Commodore  Goldsborough. 

One  day  a  newspaper  correspondent  boarded  the  ship. 
"  Commodore,"  said  he,  "  Farragut  has  run  past  Forts 
Philip  and  Jackson  with  his  fleet  and  captured  New 
Orleans." 

"Run  past  the  rebel  batteries?"  exclaimed  Golds- 
borough. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  It's  not  true,  sir,  it's  a  lie !  It  couldn't  be  done,"  was 
the  answer. 

That  had  been  the  general  opinion  of  both  rebels  and 
Unionists.  The  Confederates  had  been  absolutely  sure 
that  Union  ships  could  never  pass  those  forts,  and  stood 
aghast  at  the  heroic  deed. 

One  day  Mrs.  James  Fuller,  at  Seaview,  received  the 
following  letter,  directed  to  Miss  Lucy  Gardiner : 

"  FORTRESS  MONROE,  May,  1862. 
"  MY  DEAR  SISTER  LUCY  : — 

"  You  will  probably  be  surprised  to  receive  this  letter. 
I  am  your  brother  Thomas,  who  ran  away  from  home 
and  went  to  sea  many  years  ago.  Of  late  years,  I  have 
often  thought  I  would  write  and  inquire  concerning  my 
family.  I  have  been  through  many  adventures,  and  some 
hair-breadth  escapes.  Have  been  in  the  navy  since  the 
war  began  and  was  severely  wounded  in  the  engagement 
with  Farragut  as  we  went  up  to  New  Orleans.  Am  now 
at  the  hospital  here  and  dictating  this  letter  to  a  friend. 
I  have  prospered  in  a  temporary  way  and  have  some 
property.  If  I  recover  from  this  wound,  shall  continue 
in  the  war  till  it  is  over,  and  then  hope  to  return  and 
settle  in  Seaview. 

"  Are  my  parents  still  living,  and  all  my  brothers  and 
sisters?  I  ought  to  have  been  more  mindful  of  you  all, 
but  I  was  young  when  I  left  home  and  neglected  duty. 
Have  been  in  nearly  all  parts  of  the  world.  My  life  has 
been  spared,  but  this  last  wound  was  a  close  call,  and 
made  me  think  of  home. 


438  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  battle  was  terrible.  Commodore  Faragut  al 
lowed  no  obstacles  to  block  his  way.  He  says  that  the 
passing  of  the  forts  was  the  sublimest  sight  and  most 
awful  event  he  ever  witnessed.  The  smoke  was  so  dense 
we  could  see  nothing,  except  by  the  flash  of  cannon 
and  the  fire-rafts.  I  ought  also  to  except  the  time  when 
the  fort  was  on  fire,  I  suppose,  as  one  of  the  middies 
told  me ;  I  was  then  below  with  great  pain  from  un 
wound.  The  American  nation  should  never  forget  the 
illustrious  commander  of  that  brave  exploit  on  that 
dreadful  night. 

"  Give  my  love  to  mother,  if  she  is  living;  also  to  all 
the  other  members  of  the  family. 

"  If  this  reaches  you  all  right,  send  me  a  letter. 
"  Your  loving  brother, 

"  THOMAS  GARDINER." 


In  the  Hospital.  439 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

IN    THE     HOSPITAL. 

IN  those  dreadful  days  of  '61,  when  our  soldiers  were 
marching-  to  the  front,  the  noble  women  of  the  North 
were  ever  active  in  working  for  the  comfort  of  the  "  boys 
h:  blue."  Their  organizations  for  the  relief  of  the  sick 
and  wounded  and  the  care  of  soldiers'  families  were 
formed  in  nearly  every  community.  They  raised  money, 
forwarded  supplies,  and  sometimes  the  local  societies  af 
filiated  with  larger  organizations  which  distributed  the 
articles  to  the  soldiers  in  camps  and  on  fields.  At  first, 
most  of  these  societies  worked  independently,  but  later 
the  Sanitary  Commission  became  the  great  channel 
through  which  the  patriotic  beneficence  of  the  people 
reached  the  army.  The  self-sacrificing  spirit  extended  to 
women  as  well  as  men.  It  stimulated  them  to  collect 
hospital  supplies,  and  many  of  them  to  brave  the  horrors 
and  trials  of  hospital  life.  The  faith  of  our  own  women 
in  the  dark  days  of  the  nation's  calamity  remains  a  bright 
memory  to  cheer  the  heart,  as  one  reads  the  terrible 
record  of  the  Civil  War  in  America.  Their  patience,  their 
grandeur  and  strength,  throw  a  halo  over  the  dark  cruel 
ties  of  the  fratricidal  conflict.  Women  retrenched  expen 
ditures,  went  without  new  clothes,  denied  themselves 
luxuries,  refused  calls  of  pleasure  in  order  to  aid  their 
soldier  loved  ones  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  in  the  hos 
pitals. 

When  Rachel  reached  home  after  leaving  Samuel  and 
Wendell  in  Providence,  all  the  heroism  of  her  Puritan 
nature  was  stirred.  Her  promised  husband  and  young 
brother  had  gone  to  the  war  which  she  believed  was  a 
war  for  freedom ;  her  faith  that  slavery  would  fall  was 
strong.  She  was  greatly  aroused  and  went  to  work  with 
Marion  for  the  comfort  of  the  men  at  the  front.  Though 


44O  Love  and  Liberty. 

young  in  years,  Glentown  women  elected  her  President 
of  their  relief  organization.  Marion's  experience  and 
tact  were  of  the  greatest  value.  Protestant  and  Catholic, 
rich  and  poor  women  worked  side  by  side  in  the  common 
cause.  They  scraped  lint,  made  bandages,  and  fashioned 
garments.  An  order  came  to  Boston  for  five  thousand 
shirts  for  Massachusetts  troops  at  the  South.  Glentown 
sent  its  full  share.  Dorothea  Dix,  one  Thursday,  sent 
an  order  for  five  hundred  shirts  for  her  hospital  in  Wash 
ington.  The  next  day  they  were  cut,  made  and  packed, 
and  sent  on  their  way  that  night. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  in  Wash 
ington,  President  Lincoln  said :  "  I  am  not  accustomed 
to  use  the  language  of  eulogy ;  I  have  never  studied  the 
art  of  paying  compliments  to  women,  but  I  must  say  if 
all  that  has  been  said  by  orators  and  poets  since  the 
creation  of  the  world  in  praise  of  women,  was  applied 
to  the  women  of  America,  it  would  not  do  them  justice 
for  their  conduct  during  this  war.  God  bless  the  \vomen 
of  America !  " 

After  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  General  McClellan,  fresh 
from  his  victories  in  Wrest  Virginia,  took  command  of 
the  army.  The  cry  now  was  "  drill  and  organize."  For 
more  than  six  months  there  was  no  important  move  of 
Union  troops  in  the  East.  "  All  quiet  along  the  Poto 
mac,"  was  the  daily  chronicle. 

In  the  West,  General  Grant  was  beginning  that  series 
of  splendid  victories  which  brought  to  him  world-wide 
renown. 

It  was  toward  the  last  of  January  that  Rachel  and 
Marion,  after  excellent  service  at  home,  started  for 
Washington  to  engage  as  professional  nurses  in  hospital 
work.  Marion  had  nothing  now  to  keep  her  in  Glentown 
except  love  for  her  boy.  Lawrence  appeared  to  be  doing 
well  in  every  way.  His  adopted  parents  cared  for  even- 
need.  Mrs.  Lyons  was  probably  as  well  as  she  ever 
would  be,  and  still  regarded  Lawrence  as  her  u\:n  son. 
He  had  some  excellent  traits  of  character,  which  Marion 
fondly  hoped  would  direct  the  less  desirable  elements  in 
his  nature  to  a  favorable  result. 


In  the  Hospital.  441 

The  day  came  when  she  must  say  good-by.  She  had 
Lawrence  to  herself  for  some  hours.  "  Never  forget 
your  real  mama,  my  boy,  however  much  your  adopted 
parents  may  love  and  do  for  you,"  she  said  as  the  tears 
ran  down  her  face.  "  I  love  you,  my  boy,  more  than 
any  other  person  can  possibly  love  you.  It  is  a  hard 
hurt  which  took  you  away  from  me,  but  I  allowed  it  for 
what  I  trust  will  prove  to  be  your  highest  interest." 

"  Mama,  mama,  don't  go  and  leave  me,"  cried  Law 
rence. 

"  I  must,  my  boy ;  you  will  be  happy  after  I  am  gone ; 
promise  me  that  you  will  always  be  good." 

"  I  will,  mama,  I  surely  will.  Oh,  mama  I  love  you 
most  of  all,"  said  Lawrence,  his  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  Promise  me  to  read  the  Bible  and  pray  every  day," 
returned  Marion. 

"  I  will,  mama,  I  will,  I'll  always  pray  for  you." 

Marion  knelt  with  her  boy  and  asked  God  to  keep  him 
from  evil  and  make  him  a  good  man,  and  together  they 
sobbed  out  their  grief. 

Rachel's  parting  was  a  severe  trial  to  Margaret,  worse 
even  than  Wendell's  enlistment  had  been. 

"What  will  I  ever  do  without  you?"  said  Margaret. 

"  Rachel,  my  daughter,"  said  Willard  as  he  put  his 
arms  about  his  first-born  child,  "  it's  in  the  cause  of  lib 
erty  and  humanity  you  go,  but  it's  like  tearing  out 
the  heart-strings  to  part  from  you,"  and  he  cried  like  a 
child. 

Margaret  looked  into  Rachel's  beautiful  eyes  where 
she  saw  a  wondrous  look  of  filial  love  and  devotion,  but 
also  the  stern  Puritan  purpose  which  prompted  her 
daughter  to  self-sacrifice  in  the  cause  of  righteousness. 

"  I'll  be  back  after  a  little,  please  God,"  said  Rachel, 
"  but  if  not,  remember  I  die  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  and 
our  Father  will  comfort  you." 

Little  Martin  kissed  her  time  after  time  and  hugged 
her  closely. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  meet  Wendell.  Give  him  our  best 
love;  and,  Rachel,  remember  whatever  comes,  that  God 
will  not  forsake  you  nor  us,"  said  Margaret. 

Then  came  the  walk  to  the  station,  where  Marion  had 


442  Love  and  Liberty. 

already  arrived,  and  then  the  last  fond  kisses  and  good 
byes. 

Clifford  Noble  was  there,  and  would  fain  take  Rachel's 
hand  once  more,  and  Florence,  knowing  all,  kissed  her 
good-by  as  a  sister.  Then  the  train  rushed  up  and 
bore  them  away,  while  Martin  and  Lawrence  cried 
bitterly. 

Before  the  war,  there  was  no  general  hospital  in  the 
army.  All  military  hospitals  were  post  hospitals.  There 
was  at  first  no  trained  medical  staff,  and  no  well  in 
structed  nurses.  The  medical  system  which  finally  be 
came  so  efficient  was  created  by  the  exigencies  of  the 
war.  Rachel  had  become  familiar  with  the  work  of 
Florence  Nightingale  in  the  Crimea,  and  had  studied  her 
methods. 

"  The  Woman's  Central  Association  of  Relief "  in 
New  York  City  was  organized  early.  Dr.  Bellows, 
chairman  of  a  committee,  was  sent  to  \Yashington  to 
learn  the  best  way  of  assisting  the  army  with  the  volun 
tary  offerings  of  the  people,  and  returned  with  the  plan 
of  organization  for  the  United  States  Sanitary  Com 
mission,  which  had  received  the  sanction  of  the  Presi 
dent  and  the  Secretary  of  \Yar.  This  Commission  did 
for  the  soldier  what  the  Government  could  not  do.  It 
put  nurses  trained  to  the  work  into  the  hospitals,  who,  in 
addition  to  their  ability  in  that  line,  were  in  many  cases 
engaged  from  motives  of  large  humanity  and  exalted 
patriotism. 

There  were  kettles  on  wheels  with  small  portable  fur 
naces  attached,  in  which  soup  could  quickly  be  made  on 
battlefields  for  the  sick  and  wounded,  while  the  battle 
was  in  progress.  It  invented  hospital  cars  to  transport 
the  wounded,  where  the  hospital  bed  was  suspended  by 
strong  tugs  of  India  rubber  to  prevent  jolting.  It  main 
tained  "  Soldiers'  Homes,"  scattered  all  along  the  route 
of  the  army,  and  over  the  battlefields,  which  were  free 
to  destitute  soldiers,  separated  from  their  regiments. 

The  Commission  also  arranged  a  system  of  "Battle 
field  Relief,"  which  often  mitigated  the  horrors  of  battle. 
Agents  were  always  on  the  field  during  an  engagement 
with  surgeons,  ambulances,  store  wagons  with  anesthet- 


In  the  Hospital.  443 

ics,  surgical  instruments  and  all  kinds  of  help  for  the 
wounded  men. 

The  hearts  of  these  two  women  from  Glentown  longed 
to  do  something  to  mitigate  the  evils  of  the  terrible  strife 
of  arms.  They  went  first  to  Dorothea  Dix's  hospital  at 
Washington,  where  they  were  gladly  received  and  their 
abilities  tested ;  then  were  both  detailed  for  work  in  a 
Virginia  hospital  not  far  away  from  Burnside's  forces, 
which  were  planning  in  co-operation  with  Commodore 
Goldsborough,  the  attack  on  Roanoke  Island. 

The  attack  resulted  in  victory  to  Union  arms,  "  second 
to  none  since  the  national  forces  took  the  field." 

February  8,  the  sun  went  down  with  our  flag  floating 
where  the  flag  of  secession  had  so  long  waved  unmo 
lested.  Two  thousand  five  hundred  prisoners  and  large 
quantities  of  munitions  of  war  fell  into  Northern  hands. 

Then  followed  another  victory  at  Newbern,  Burnside 
and  his  gallant  troops  covering  themselves  with  glory, 
though  many  poor  fellows  bit  the  dust  and  died  in  mortal 
agony. 

The  colored  population  rejoiced  over  the  coming  of 
the  Yankee  soldiers  to  victory,  as  men  in  olden  days 
looked  for  the  coming  Messiah,  expecting  deliverance 
from  bondage.  Many  of  the  wounded  from  the  battles 
about  Roanoke  and  Newbern  found  their  way  to  the 
hospital  where  Rachel  and  Marion  were  serving  as 
nurses. 

Rachel  passed  by  one  poor  fellow  groaning  with  pain. 
His  arm  was  shot  away,  and  he  had  a  severe  wound  in 
the  abdomen.  The  doctor  came  and  examined  him. 

"  We'll  have  to  amputate  that  arm,  and  dress  this 
wound,  my  man." 

"  It's  awful,  just  awful,  doctor,"  gasped  the  fellow. 

"  Brace  up,  my  brave  fellow,  we've  got  some  skilful 
nurses  here,  and  we'll  pull  you  through  all  right." 

"  I'll  try,  sir." 

Rachel  started;  that  voice  sounded  familiar.  She 
drew  close  to  the  cot  and  looked  at  the  mangled  body 
and  a  faintness  seized  her ;  blood  was  flowing  freely ; 
there  was  no  mistaking  those  features. 

"Chester,  don't  you  know  me?    It's  Rachel!" 


Love  and  Liberty. 

Chester  Nye  looked  into  the  beautiful  face  with  the 
nurse's  cap  on  her  head,  and  cried  out  joyously,  "  Ra 
chel  !  Rachel !  are  you  here  ?  I  can  stand  anything, 
doctor,  if  she's  going  to  care  for  me!  " 

Rachel  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  Dear  old  fellow,  I'll  care  for  you  and  you'll  recover, 
I  know." 

They  gave  him  the  anesthetic,  amputated  his  left  arm 
midway  between  the  elbow  and  shoulder,  dressed  the  ter 
rible  hurt,  and  neatly  bandaged  the  wounds. 

An  hour  later,  Chester  opened  his  eyes.  Rachel  looked 
up  and  smiled.  Chester  gave  a  groan,  but  his  face  lit 
up  with  the  old  light  that  Rachel  remembered  so  well  in 
days  that  seemed  such  a  long  time  ago. 

He  was  very  weak.  "Don't  talk,  Chester;  I'll  do 
everything  for  you,  and  write  your  mother  that  you  are 
here,  and  doing  well." 

He  gave  a  ghastly  smile.  "  Tim  Ouinn's  wounded  and 
'round  here  somewhere,"  he  faintly  whispered. 

The  doctor  gave  Chester  an  opiate  and  he  soon  went  to 
sleep. 

Rachel  called  another  nurse  to  take  her  place  for  a 
few  minutes  and  went  in  search  of  Tim. 

"  I  wonder  where  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself.  Passing 
down  to  the  further  end  of  the  room,  glancing  at  differ 
ent  sufferers,  some  of  whom  she  knew,  she  came  at  last 
tc  the  further  cot,  where  the  surgeon  was  busy  at  work 
with  Marion. 

The  patient  was  unconscious  and  the  doctor  was  prob 
ing  his  side. 

"  Who  is  it?  "  asked  Rachel. 

"  No  one  that  I  know,"  said  Marion.  "  He  looks  like 
an  Irish  fellow.  Doctor  says  he's  hit  with  a  minie  ball, 
and  is  probing  for  the  bullet.  We  gave  him  an  anes 
thetic." 

Rachel  obtained  a  look  at  the  face;  she  was  almost 
sure  it  was  Tim  Quinn. 

"  There's  the  ball,"  said  the  surgeon.  "  Lucky  I  got 
it,"  he  continued,  holding  it  up,  "  or  he  would  have  died 
sure." 

"  Do  you  think  he'll  recover  ?  "  asked  Rachel. 


In  the  Hospital.  445 

"  It's  a  bad  wound  in  the  side,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  but 
if  his  constitution's  good,  I  see  no  reason  why  he  won't 
get  well.  He's  a  young  Hercules  in  size,"  he  continued. 

Tim  began  to  move  soon  after  the  wound  was  dressed, 
and  at  length  opened  his  eyes. 

"  I  gin  'im  a  good  un  with  the  ban'net,  be  jabers,"  he 
said  rather  faintly. 

"  Hush,  Tim,  you  must  be  quiet  now,"  said  Rachel. 

"  Do  yees  kno'  Tim,  now  begorry,  and  who  are  yees  ?  " 

He  looked  full  into  Rachel's  eyes. 

"  Saints  presarve  us,  Miss  Rachel,  but  how  did  yees 
git  'ere  ?  " 

"  I'm  a  nurse  in  this  hospital  here,  and  you  positively 
mustn't  talk  any  more,"  and  she  clapped  her  hand  over 
his  mouth. 

Tim  gave  a  big  groan,  then  grinned  but  said  nothing. 

Rachel  returned  to  Chester,  relieving  the  other  nurse. 
He  was  sleeping  soundly.  She  took  her  writing  mate 
rials  and  wrote  his  mother,  then  to  her  own  mother, 
that  strangely  indeed,  Chester  Nye  and  Tim  Quinn, 
both  badly  wounded,  were  in  that  hospital,  and  Chester 
was  her  special  care. 

Among  the  last  wounded  men  brought  in  from  New- 
bern  was  a  burly  fellow  dressed  in  Confederate  gray ; 
also  a  fine-looking  tall  young  captain,  who  had  been 
found  near  some  of  the  dead  Zouaves. 

The  first  named  was  wounded  in  the  lungs.  The  doc 
tor  told  the  nurse  he  couldn't  possibly  recover.  He  evi 
dently  was  one  of  the  Confederates  who  had  been  found 
among  our  men. 

Marion  was  out  when  the  men  came  in. 

The  young  captain  had  a  bronzed  face  and  full  beard, 
and  looked  strong  and  manly. 

"A  fine  specimen  of  a  soldier,"  said  the  doctor.  He 
was  conscious  when  he  arrived,  but  uttered  no  moan.  He 
had  a  fractured  leg,  and  when  found,  had  been  lying  a 
long  time  on  the  field. 

"  How  did  you  get  hurt?  "  asked  the  surgeon. 

"  When  I  was  fighting,"  answered  the  captain. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  sir,  but  there's  no  bullet  or  shell 
that  broke  your  leg,  my  man." 


446  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I  didn't  say  there  was." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Well,  doctor,  I  was  working  some  artillery  a  little, 
when  a  shell  struck  the  gun,  threw  me  under  it,  and  pin 
ioned  me  to  the  ground.  After  desperate  efforts,  I  pulled 
my  leg  out,  but  knew  it  was  broken.  I  tried  to  drag 
myself  along,  when  a  rebel  came  up  and  attempted  to 
bayonet  me.  That  was  too  much  for  even  a  patient  man 
like  me  to  endure.  I  sprang  up,  balanced  myself  on  one 
leg,  wrested  the  gun  from  his  hand,  and  drove  the  bayo 
net  into  his  heart,  then  fell  down  exhausted  with  pain, 
and  lay  there  till  our  men  found  me !  '' 

"  Bravo !  "  exclaimed  the  surgeon. 

The  doctor  set  the  leg;  the  break  was  a  compound 
fracture. 

After  the  operation  the  captain  rested  easily,  and  was 
evidently  a  man  of  nerve. 

The  surgeon  went  to  the  man  in  gray,  who  had  re 
covered  consciousness,  but  appeared  somewhat  dazed. 
The  bullet  had  passed  out  of  the  lung  through  the  back, 
and  he  bled  profusely.  The  doctor  tried  to  staunch  the 
flow  of  blood,  and  at  length  succeeded.  When  the  man 
awoke  after  a  troubled  sleep,  he  cried  out:  "  I've  got  to 
tell,  by  gum.  I  can't  keep  it  secret  no  longer.  Nance, 
Nance,  where  be  ye?  Why  don't  ye  cum  ter  help  Bill?  " 

Marion  had  returned,  and  went  to  the  man. 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  man  ?  "  she  asked,  looking 
into  his  face. 

There  was  something  familiar  about  him,  but  she 
could  not  place  him. 

"  Oh,  the  devils  are  arter  me;  don't  ye  see  'em  there? 
He  fit  for  his  life;  I  hated  ter  du  it  jest  awful,  but  I 
couldn't  help  it,  he  clutched  my  windpipe  so." 

The  captain,  a  few  cots  away,  was  listening  intently. 

"Of  whom  are  yotv/ talking?  "  asked  Marion. 

"  Talkin'  'bout?  Why,  Lawrence  Lyons,  o'  course, 
but  ye  don't  know.  I've  got  ter  die.  I  must  tell  yer. 
Git  some  witnesses  an*  paper.  Writ'  it  down,  d'ye  hear? 
Mercy,  O  God  !  " 

Marion  staggered.  Everything  looked  dark.  One  of 
the  nurses  caught  her  ere  she  fell. 


In  the  Hospital.  447 

"  Good  heavens !  "  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  is  that  you, 
Bill  Jenks?" 

"  In  course  it's  me;  who'd  ye  think  'twas?  I'm  goin' 
ter  confess ;  git  yer  witnesses  quick !  "  Bill  groaned  in 
agony. 

Marion  and  Rachel  were  soon  by  the  man.  Marion 
pale  as  a  ghost. 

"  I  must  hear  this  confession,"  cried  the  captain.  "  It 
concerns  me !  " 

That  voice !    Who  was  it  ? 

Marion  sprang  from  Rachel's  side  to  the  captain's 
bed. 

"  Horace !  Horace !  "  she  cried,  and  broke  into  sobs. 

"  Marion,  sister,  you  here?"  exclaimed  Horace,  for  it 
was  indeed  he. 

They  embraced  each  other  in  wild  joy. 

The  hospital  was  in  confusion.  Bill  kept  groaning 
and  talking. 

"  Fetch  yer  paper.  I  killed  Lawrence  Lyons  on  the 
road  to  Keene.  I  told  him  a  lie  to  git  him  ther'.  When 
I  knocked  him  out  o'  the  wagon  he  clutched  my  wind 
pipe.  I  tole  him  to  let  up,  but  he  didn't  du  it.  I  took 
the  knife — it  had  '  H.  F.'  on  it, — and  run  it  inter  his 
heart."  The  surgeon  was  there  writing  it  all  down.  "  I 
foun'  ther  knife  close  ter  Fuller's  gate  in  ther  road.  He 
fit  for  his  life ;  I  had  ter  du  it,  I  tell  ye.  Nance  an'  I  run 
away  when  the  sheriff  cum  fur  me !  D'ye  hear,  an'  un- 
derstan'?  "  cried  Bill. 

"  I  hear,  my  man,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I've  got  it  all 
down  ;  sign  your  name  there." 

Bill  scrawled  "  Bill  Jenks  "  on  the'  paper.  Rachel 
signed  it  as  a  witness,  and  two  other  nurses  with  the 
doctor  did  the  same. 

"  Doctor !  "  cried  Horace,  "  I'm  vindicated.  That  fel 
low  killed  a  man  up  in  New  York  State,  and  it  was  laid 
to  me.  How  strange  are  God's  providences  and  judg 
ments  !  "  he  continued.  "  And,  Marion,  sister  Marion, 
that  you  should  be  here  to  listen  to  this  confession !  " 

Marion  was  sobbing. 

"  Holy  Vargin,  be  jabers,  where  did  the  villin  cum 
from,  yer  honors,  that  he  got  in  with  the  loikes  o'  us?" 


448  Love  and  Liberty. 

Poor  Tim  could  hardly  control  himself  that  such  a 
"  villin  "  should  be  in  a  "  rale  Union  'ospital." 

Bill  kept  raving,  "  Ye  orter  let  up  on  me,  Mr.  Lyons. 
I  toie  ye  I  didn't  want  ter  hurt  ye.  \\'hy  didn't  ye 
gin  me  the  money?  Ye  wouldn't  'a'  missed  it.  I've 
got  ter  die,  an'  I  ain't  fit  ter  die.  Ther  ain't  no 
mercy  fur  such  as"  me.  O  God,  he  there  a  God? 
If  there  he,  it's  jest  awful;  I'm  dun  fur;  He  can't 
help  folks  like  me ;  it's  gettin'  dark  here ;  why  don't 
ye  light  the  lamp?  The  devils  are  arter  me;  see 
'em  ther!  They're  callin'  on  me.  Git  out,  I  won't  come, 
so  ther!  O  horrors,  I'm  in  hell;  I  didn't  s'pose  'twas  so 
awful.  Nance!  Nance!  where  he  ye?  Stan'  by  ole  Bill. 
I  fit  well.  The  captain  sed  so.  Them  Ab'litionists  bed 
to  ketclf  it,  I  tell  ye.  Git  out  ther  way,  ye  ole  devils, 
Nance  is  cummin'.  Marcy !  pity  ole  Bill!  My,  how  the 
blood  spurted  frum  ther  knife.  Nance,  Nance,  where 
are  ye  ?  " 

And  so  he  went  on.  The  fever  was  high,  and  he  raved 
like  a  madman.  Rachel  had  a  sweet  voice,  and  went  to 
his  side,  singing  one  of  the  old  Methodist  invitation 
hymns. 

"  Come,  ye  sinners,  poor,  and  needy, 

Weak  and  wounded,  sick  and  sore. 
Jesus  ready  stands  to  save  you, 
Full  of  pity,  love  and  power." 

She  repeated  quietly  the  twenty-third  Psalm.  It 
seemed  for  a  time  to  calm  that  turbulent  spirit.  Then 
the  paroxysms  came  on  again,  and  he  required  several 
persons  to  hold  him  in  bed. 

Bill's  conscience  lashed  and  stung  him  in  his  helpless 
ness  ;  his  ignorant  soul  formed  a  horror  which  was 
darker  than  the  darkest  night ;  his  black  crime  filled  him 
with  the  keenest  remorse,  while  he  raved  and  struggled 
in  his  madness.  That  night  he  died,  in  fearful  agony, 
with  black  curses  bursting  from  his  lips. 

Several  weeks  later,  the  surgeon  came  into  the  hospital 
and  said :  "  A  nurse  is  needed  for  the  smallpox  hospi 
tal ;  will  any  of  you  volunteer  to  go?" 


In  the  Hospital.  449 

Marion  spoke  up  quickly :  "  I  will  go,  doctor." 

"  How  can  I  be  separated  from  you,  Marion  ?  And 
then  you  may  die,"  exclaimed  Rachel. 

"  We  will  have  to  be  separated  some  time,  Rachel.  I 
have  been  vaccinated,  and  may  escape  the  disease,  but  if 
one  is  to  go  and  die,  it  would  better  be  I  than  some  one 
else.  I  can  best  be  spared." 

It  was  a  sore  trial  for  the  two  women  to  separate. 
Marion  wrote  a  letter  to  Lawrence,  and  another  to  her 
parents,  and  put  them  into  Rachel's  keeping,  to  be  sent 
if  she  never  came  back. 

Rachel  knew  that  Marion  was  heroic,  but  she  now  re 
garded  her  with  new  admiration,  while  she  deliberately 
gave  herself  to  the  new  sacrifice. 

Horace  bade  her  good-by  with  more  emotion  than 
Marion  had  ever  seen  him  manifest  since  he  reached 
adult  age. 

"  It's  a  noble  thing !  "  said  the  doctor.  "  I  never  saw  a 
braver  woman ;  I  hope  her  life  may  be  spared,  and  also 
her  beauty  ;  she  is  a  remarkably  handsome  woman." 

Marion  found  the  hospital  in  sad  need  of  her  services. 
She  went  to  work  with  her  accustomed  energy.  The 
poor  fellows  were  in  bad  condition,  but  Marion  did  not 
despair.  One  of  them  died  that  night.  Others  were 
very  sick ;  some  were  convalescing.  Her  deft  fingers 
smoothed  their  pillows,  her  cheery  smile  sent  hope  into 
their  hearts.  Her  strong  self-reliance  and  skilful  nurs 
ing  wrought  marvelous  things  in  that  pest-house. 

One  day  the  doctor  came  with  a  new  victim. 

"  It's  Ensign  Gardiner,  who  was  with  Farragut  at 
New  Orleans  in  that  terrible  fight.  He  was  wounded 
and  sent  to  Fortress  Munroe,  arriving  only  a  few  days 
ago,  when  these  symptoms  appeared.  He's  dreadfully 
sick,  Mrs.  Fuller,  but  he's  a  brave  fellow,  and  we  must 
save  him,  if  possible.  Commodore  Farragut  has  recom 
mended  him  for  promotion." 

Gardiner  was  placed  on  a  bed,  the  usual  remedies  ap 
plied,  and  the  doctor  went  away. 

The  new  patient  grew  rapidly  worse.     Another  nurse 
attended  with  Marion,  but  had  left  the  pest-house  that 
night  for  some  much  needed  rest. 
29 


45°  Love  and  Liberty. 

All  alone  with  those  men,  Marion  felt  her  dependence 
on  a  higher  Power,  and  called  for  help  and  wisdom. 

The  moaning  of  Gardiner  was  sickening.  Marion  felt 
his  pulse.  He  was  growing  cold  and  sinking  into  the 
first  stage  of  collapse  which  precedes  death.  In  the  dead 
of  night,  alone  in  that  hospital,  Marion  grew  calm  and 
strong.  Seeing  Gardiner's  condition,  and  knowing  it 
meant  death  unless  something  was  immediately  done,  she 
hesitated  no  longer.  She  raised  his  head,  put  her  mouth 
to  his  mouth  and  breathed  deep,  long  draughts  of  her 
pure,  healthful  inspirations  into  those  diseased  lungs. 
Again  and  again  she  repeated  the  process,  and  before 
the  morning  dawned,  the  crisis  was  passed  and  the  man 
was  saved. 

One  of  the  convalescent  patients  watched  her  through 
it  all,  and  reported  the  act  to  the  surgeon  next  morning. 

"  Madam,  is  it  possible  that  you  could  do  this?  "  said 
the  doctor. 

'  There  was  no  other  way  ;  he  surely  would  have  died  : 
his  life  is  certainly  worth  more  than  mine,"  came  the 
answer. 

"  He  is  surely  saved,  unless  something  new  sets  in.  It 
was  a  brave  act,  nurse.  Heaven  will  not  allow  you  to 
go  unrewarded." 

Marion  suddenly  grew  white  and  reeled. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  doctor,  "  it's  coming!  " 

Just  then  the  other  nurse  appeared.  The  doctor  ex 
plained  what  Marion  had  done.  They  placed  her  on  a 
bed,  and  she  sank  into  unconsciousness.  Remedies  were 
quickly  used,  and  strange  to  say,  she  rallied.  Her  case 
proved  to  be  the  milder  form  of  varioloid.  Her  consti 
tution  repelled  the  insidious  attack,  and  after  several 
days,  she  recovered  and  continued  her  work,  not  even 
her  beauty  destroyed  by  her  self-denying  act. 

When  Ensign  Gardiner  grew  better,  they  told  him 
what  Marion  had  done  for  him.  The  great  fellow  burst 
into  tears. 

"She  did  that  for  me?"  said  he.  "What  made  her 
do  it?  " 

"  It's  like  her,"  said  the  men. 

How  those  men  watched  her  every  movement,  and  in 


In  the  Hospital.  451 

the  flickering  light  kissed  her  shadow  on  the  wall.  They 
prayed  blessings  on  her  head,  and  Marion  had  a  joyful 
song  in  her  heart  as  she  went  about  her  duties. 

When  Ensign  Gardiner  was  cured  and  went  away,  he 
had  a  private  interview  with  Marion,  and  asked  her  if  she 
was  free. 

"  I  am,"  said  she,  blushing  like  a  schoolgirl. 

"  Mrs.  Fuller,  you  have  risked  your  life  to  save  mine. 
I  am  an  awfully  poor  specimen  of  a  man,  wounded  and 
pitted  with  the  smallpox.  I  could  do  nothing  else  but 
love  you  after  what  you  have  done  for  me.  Whether 
you  could  love  me  is  the  other  side.  You  are  the  only 
woman  who  ever  attracted  me.  I  have  remained  a  bach 
elor,  having  been  on  the  sea  ever  since  a  boy.  When 
the  war  broke  out,  I  entered  the  navy  under  Farragut, 
and  have  some  means.  If  I  live  through  the  war,  and 
you  would  consent,  we  might  be  happy." 

Tom  Gardiner  looked  at  the  beautiful  woman,  the 
color  fading,  and  then  coming  in  her  cheeks. 

"  I  will  take  you  to  my  brother  in  the  hospital,"  she 
answered,  "  and  you  can  talk  with  him." 

Horace  told  Gardiner,  Marion's  story. 

"  The  facts  you  have  related,  Mr.  Fuller,  make  no 
difference  to  me,"  said  Gardiner ;  "  your  sister  is  the 
handsomest  and  the  noblest  woman  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  I've  been  all  over  the  world.  I  owe  my  life  to  her." 

When  Marion  saw  him  again,  she  consented  to  become 
his  wife,  and  they  sealed  the  compact  with  a  kiss,  which 
caused  Captain  Gardiner  (for  his  new  commission  had 
arrived)  to  doubt  whether  he  was  in  this  world  or  some 
other  state,  where  rapturous  joy  was  the  happy  condition 
of  men. 


452  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER   LXIX. 

THE    MAN    IN    THE    WHITE    HOUSE. 

IN  the  Capital,  at  the  White  House,  was  the  man  who 
guided  the  ship  of  state.  Some  people  call  him  the  jok 
ing  President,  but  the  humor  often  gave  vent  to  his  bur 
dened  heart  in  the  hour  of  the  nation's  struggle. 

Frank  Noble  and  Lincoln  had  become  close  friends. 
The  genial  congressman  had  attracted  the  great  chief 
tain,  and  Noble  was  glad  to  enter  somewhat  into  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  strong  man's  nature. 

"  Ah,  Noble,"  said  Lincoln  one  day,  as  the  former 
called  at  the  White  House,  "  I've  been  thinking  about 
you  and  longing  for  a  good  talk.  I'm  greatly  burdened 
over  matters.  Things  are  not  going  as  I  wish." 

"  Rome  wasn't  built  in  a  day,"  returned  Noble.  "  Mat 
ters  will  improve  after  a  little." 

"  So  I  hope,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  we  don't  get  any 
where.  McClellan  is  a  grand  fellow  on  dress  parade, 
but  when  it  comes  to  cornering  the  foe,  he  doesn't  seem 
to  get  in  his  work.  That's  a  splendid  army  that  he  has, 
Noble,  well  equipped  and  well  drilled." 

"You're  right  about  that,  Mr.  President;  perhaps  the 
tide  will  soon  turn." 

"  Perhaps!  "  replied  Lincoln.  "  I  told  McClellan  the 
other  dav  I'd  like  to  borrow  his  army  if  he  had  no  use 
for  it." 

Noble  laughed.    "  He  didn't  wish  to  lend,  did  he?" 

"  He  didn't  speak  that  way,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Wilson  told  me  this  morning  that  Brigadier-General 
Jones  and  his  squad  of  cavalry  had  been  captured  by 
rebel  guerillas,"  said  Noble. 

"  Pretty  incompetent  general  he,"  returned  Lincoln. 
"  I'm  sorry  to  lose  the  horses." 


The  Man  in  the  White  House.         453 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Noble. 

"  Why,  I  can  make  a  better  brigadier  any  day,  but 
those  horses  cost  the  Government  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  dollars  apiece." 

''  You  have  some  things  to  cheer  you,"  said  Noble. 
"  Gallant  Burnside  has  gloriously  won  at  Roanoke  and 
Newbern." 

"  You're  right,  Noble.  What  do  you  think  about  put 
ting  him  in  McClellan's  place?  I've  talked  with  Seward 
about  it." 

"  I  really  wouldn't  like  to  advise,"  answered  Noble. 
"  I  was  also  thinking  of  last  Sunday,  Mr.  Lincoln,  when 
the  Monitor  whipped  the  Merriinac." 

Lincoln's  face  lighted. 

"  We  ought  to  be  thankful  over  that,"  responded  the 
President.  "  There  must  be  some  rays  of  sunshine ; 
clouds  cannot  always  hover  in  the  sky ;  we  have  a  few 
flecks  of  light.  Do  people  think  I'm  impassive  and 
stern  ?  "  continued  he. 

"  No  one  who  really  knows  you  believes  such  a  thing, 
Mr.  Lincoln." 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  an  attendant  at  the  door,  "  your 
Willie  is  very  sick,  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  would  like  to  see 
you." 

"  Good  day,  Mr.  President.  I  will  call  again,  when 
you  have  more  leisure,"  and  Noble  took  his  departure. 

Lincoln  went  to  the  room  of  his  sick  child.  Little 
Willie  was  moaning  with  pain.  The  face  \vas  flushed 
with  fever.  The  child  was  his  pet  and  pride,  and  the 
strong  man's  heart  was  rent  with  anguish. 

"'  Is  it  not  enough  that  the  nation  is  in  the  throes  of  a 
great  convulsion  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Am  I  to  have  personal 
calamity,  as  well  as  national  disaster?" 

So  it  appeared,  for  a  few  days  later  the  child  died, 
and  the  father-heart  in  Lincoln  was  rent  with  pain  and 
grief.  His  inherited  gloom  and  despondency  oppressed 
him. 

"  All  these  things  are  against  me !  "  he  exclaimed. 

The  child's  death  pressed  sorely  upon  him.  Some  days 
he  would  shut  himself  in  his  room  and  indulge  his  grief. 

"Willie  is  dead;  I'll  never  see  him  again,"  he  cried. 


454  Love  and  Liberty. 

One  day,  while  he  was  thus  cast  down,  Noble  sent  up 
his  card. 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  the  President.  He  told  Noble 
of  his  despair  and  sorrow.  "  If  I  could  only  believe 
I'd  meet  him  again,  things  would  appear  better." 

"  Rev.  Dr.  Yinton,  of  New  York,  has  a  fine  printed 
sermon  on  the  '  Loss  of  Friends,'  "  replied  Noble.  "  It 
may  help  you  to  read  it." 

"  I  will  get  it,"  said  Lincoln. 

When  he  saw  Noble  again,  he  appeared  brighter. 

'  That  sermon    comforted  me,  Mr.  Noble." 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  replied  his  friend. 

"Do  you  like  Shakespeare?"  asked  the  President. 

"  Yery  much,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Would  you  mind  if  I  read  a  few  passages?  " 

"  I  should  be  much  pleased  to  listen,"  responded 
Noble. 

He  then  read  the  discussion  on  ambition  between  Ham 
let  and  his  courtiers,  the  soliloquy  in  which  conscience 
debates  a  future  state,  and  finally  opened  to  the  third  act 
of  King  John,  where  Constance  bewails  her  lost  boy. 

The  last  words  impressed  him. 

"  And  father  cardinal,  I  have  heard  you  say 
That  we  shall  see  and  know  our  friends  in  heaven." 

"  If  that  be  true,  Noble,  I  shall  see  my  boy  again.  Did 
you  ever  dream  of  a  lost  friend,  and  feel  that  you  were 
holding  sweet  communion  with  him,  and  yet  have  a  con 
sciousness  that  it  was  not  a  reality?  Just  so  I  dream 
of  \Villie." 

Overcome  with  emotion,  he  dropped  his  head  on  the 
table  and  sobbed  aloud. 

The  summer  of  sixty-two  was  a  summer  of  great  per 
plexity  to  Lincoln. 

McClellan  failed  to  reach  Richmond,  and  floundered 
about  the  Chickahominy,  losing  fifteen  thousand  men, 
finally  returning  to  Washington. 

Then  came  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run,  when 
"  Stonewall  "  Jackson  sent  Pope  whirling  back  to  the 
fortifications  at  Washington,  and  Lee,  "  the  flower  of 


The  Man  in  the  White  House.         455 

Southern  chivalry,"  crossed  the  Potomac,  singing  exult 
antly  :  "  Maryland,  my  Maryland." 

It  is  true  there  was  a  brilliant  young  general  in  the 
West  called  "  Unconditional  Surrender  Grant,"  but  even 
he  appeared  hopelessly  thwarted  at  Vicksburg.  Now 
came  to  Lincoln  the  question :  "  Can  the  Union  be  main 
tained  and  slavery  saved  ?  " 

He  was  doubtful.  He  read  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
"  All  men  are  brothers." 

"  I  believe  in  this  Book ;  it  helps  me,"  he  said,  and 
made  a  resolution. 

"  I'll  spend  an  hour  each  day  with  this  Book,  alone 
with  God,  till  this  crisis  of  the  Nation's  life  is  passed," 
and  he  kept  his  word. 

"  I  might  change  the  character  of  the  war  by  freeing 
the  slaves,"  he  thought. 

"  Is  it  best  to  do  it?" 

"  I  became  President  resolved  not  to  interfere  with 
slavery  where  it  already  existed,  and  so  stated  at  my  in 
auguration.  The  Secessionists,  however,  have  rebelled ; 
they  continue  formidable.  Our  arms  are  time  after  time 
defeated.  Is  God  hiding  His  face  from  us  till  slavery 
is  abolished?  I  do  not  know,  I  cannot  tell.  The  black 
institution  foul  as  death  is  the  cause  of  this  conflict.  I 
have  held  out  the  olive-branch  to  the  South,  but  they 
would  not  take  it." 

It  was  pathetic  to  see  the  great  man  perplexed  with  his 
burden,  not  sure  of  his  duty.  One  day  Bishop  Simpson, 
with  whom  he  often  counseled,  called  to  see  him,  and 
sent  up  his  card. 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  Lincoln. 

The  Bishop  entered  and  was  warmly  greeted. 

There  lay  the  open  Bible  on  the  table. 

"  I've  been  reading  this  book,"  said  the  President. 
"  I  would  like  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens  and  let  the  op 
pressed  go  free." 

"  Amen  !  "  answered  the  Bishop. 

"  I  like  this  book,"  went  on  Lincoln,  "  because  of  its 
power  over  my  heart  and  judgment;  it's  not  like  other 
books,  Shakespeare,  for  instance." 

"  The  Bible  is  a  divine  book,"  returned  the  Bishop. 


456  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  Ought  I  to  free  the  slaves  in 
the  rebellious  states?" 

"  The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done !  " 

"  I  will  be  glad  to  know  that  will." 

"  Yuo  may  know  it  through  prayer." 

"  So  I  believe;  I've  prayed  a  good  deal  concerning  the 
matter,  Bishop." 

"  Thank  the  Lord,"  exclaimed  the  great  preacher. 

"  They  are  threatening  my  life,  but  I  care  nothing 
about  that,"  continued  Lincoln.  "  When  I  left  for  in 
auguration  at  Washington,  my  angel  of  a  mother  put 
her  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  looked  into  my  face,  say 
ing  with  deep  emotion :  '  I  am  sure,  my  son,  that  I  shall 
never  see  you  again ;  your  enemies  will  assassinate  you.' 
Letters  frequently  reach  me,  warning  me  of  death ;  I 
expect  her  prophecy  to  come  true." 

"  The  Lord  forbid !  "  replied  the  Bishop. 

"  I  must  save  the  Union  any  way.  If  freeing  the  slaves 
wrou!d  aid  in  this  paramount  purpose,  I  should  rejoice 
that  I  might  be  instrumental  in  helping  on  the  cause  of 
liberty." 

The  interview  was  drawing  to  a  close. 

"  Pray  with  me,  Bishop,  before  you  go." 

They  knelt,  and  Bishop  Simpson  offered  a  fervent 
petition  that  the  President  in  these  trying  days  might 
have  wisdom  from  above  to  guide  the  nation  rightly. 

"  Give  Thy  servant  a  heart  and  mind  to  clearly  dis 
cern  his  duty  and  strength  to  do  it.  Thou  knowest,  Lord, 
the  dreadful  institution  which  covers  our  land  with  the 
cries  of  suffering.  In  Thine  own  way,  divine  Father, 
bring  to  pass  the  freedom  of  the  slave.  If  Thou  hast 
called  our  beloved  President  to  this  office  for  such  a  time 
as  this,  equip  him  with  grace  and  power  for  the  trying 
hour." 

"  Amen !  "  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  Is  this  the  joking  Presi 
dent?  He  was  not  joking  that  day. 

Rev.  Mr.  Duryea,  a  member  of  the  Christian  Com 
mission,  visited  him.  "  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  he,  "  the  Lord 
is  on  our  side." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  concerned  about  that,"  was  the  an 
swer,  "  for  I  know  that  the  Lord  is  always  on  the  side  of 


The  Man  in  the  White  House.         457 

right.  It  is  my  constant  anxiety  and  prayer  that  /  and 
this  nation  should  be  on  the  Lord's  side." 

"  If  it  were  not  my  belief  in  an  overruling  Providence," 
he  continued,  "  it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  keep  my 
reason  in  the  midst  of  such  complications." 

"  I  am  confident,  however,  that  the  Almighty  has  His 
plans  and  will  work  them  out,  and  whether  we  see  it 
or  not,  they  will  be  the  wisest  and  best  for  us.  I  have 
always  taken  counsel  of  Him,  and  have  never  adopted 
a  course  of  proceeding  without  being  assured  as  far  as  I 
could  be  of  his  approbation." 

One  day  Noble  called  with  two  of  the  colored  friends 
whom  we  have  met  in  this  history. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  he,  "  this  is  Frederick  Douglass, 
and  this  good  woman  is  Sojourner  Truth,  who  has  come 
a  long  distance  to  see  you !  " 

He  greeted  them  kindly  and  cordially.  As  he  took 
Sojourner's  hand,  she  said  with  her  musical  voice:  "O 
glory,  glory,  glory,  I'se  glad  to  see  yer  face !  " 

"  I  am  much  pleased  to  meet  you,"  was  the  answer, 
as  he  gave  her  one  of  his  beautiful  smiles.  "  Take  a 
seat." 

"  Thank  'ee,"  said  she. 

"  Who  gave  you  your  name,  my  good  woman?  " 

"  The  Lord,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

"  I've  heard  of  you,  Sojourner." 

"  Mr.  President,"  she  replied,  "  when  you  first  took 
your  seat,  I  ffcared  ye  would  be  torn  to  pieces,  fur  I 
likened  you  unto  Daniel  in  de  lions'  den,  and  if  de  lions 
didn't  tear  you  to  pieces,  I  knew  'twould  be  God  that 
saved  you;  and  I  sed  if  He  spared  me  I'd  see  you  afore 
the  four  years  was  up,  and  He's  done  it,  and  now  I'se 
here  to  see  you  for  myself." 

"  I'm  truly  glad  you  have  been  spared  to  see  this  day," 
said  the  President. 

"  I  'predate  you  for  de  best  President  as  ever  took  his 
seat,"  went  on  Sojourner. 

"  I'm  trying  to  do  the  best  I  can,"  Mr.  Lincoln  an 
swered  with  a  smile. 

For  half  an  hour  they  conversed  together,  and  she 
went  away  joyful. 


458  Love  and  Liberty. 

Congressman  Noble  and  Frederick  Douglass  took  tea 
with  him. 

"  President  Lincoln,"  Douglass  wrote  Garrison,  "  is 
one  of  the  few  white  men  I  ever  passed  an  hour  with, 
who  failed  to  remind  me  in  some  way  before  the  inter 
view  terminated  that  1  was  a  negro." 

April  16,  1862,  Lincoln  signed  the  bill  abolishing 
slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  providing  compensa 
tion  to  owners,  claimant  within  ninety  days,  and  appro 
priating  six  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the  coloniza 
tion  of  such  freedmen  as  might  wish  to  leave  the  country. 
About  eighty  thousand  dollars  was  thus  spent  to  colonize 
these  freedmen  in  New  Granada  and  Hayti,  and  then 
the  project  was  abandoned. 

Still  the  war  went  on  and  still  the  President  struggled, 
seeking  to  know  his  duty  concerning  general  emanci 
pation. 

"  If  I  issue  a  proclamation  the  South  will  be  even  yet 
more  venomous  ;  the  North  is  divided,  the  Abolitionists 
would  rejoice,  and  the  conservatives  be  indignant.  The 
nation,  the  Union  must  be  saved.  God  help  me  to  save 
it  and  do  my  duty  in  the  right  way.  If  freedom  to  the 
slaves  will  best  secure  national  unity,  then  it  must  be 
done." 

lie  viewed  the  question  from  every  side.  Letters 
urging  him  to  take  the  stand,  and  also  letters  condemn 
ing  him  to  the  most  bitter  penalty  if  he  dared  to  interfere 
with  slavery,  reached  him.  One  day  a  letter  came,  con 
taining  this  passage : 

"  He  was  my  on1}'  son.  He  fell  at  the  battle  of  Bull 
Run.  Tt  was  so  hard,  so  long  before  I  could  feel  recon 
ciled.  Oh.  Mr.  Lincoln,  God  help  you  in  your  trial,  as 
He  has  helped  me  in  mine.  I  shall  pray  for  you  day  and 
night.  Be  very  strong  and  courageous,  and  He  will 
bring  us  through." 

It  was  a  sample  of  many  letters. 

A  Cabinet  meeting  was  held  one  day,  which  lasted 
into  the  evening. 

Congressman  Noble  came  over  on  some  errand  for  the 
President,  but  found  the  Cabinet  in  session,  and  stepped 
into  the  Secretarv's  room  to  wait  until  the  session  closed. 


The  Man  in  the  White  House.         459 

Secretary  Stanton  was  the  last  to  leave.  Nine  o'clock 
had  come  r.nd  the  President  was  alone. 

Noble  started  towards  his  door.  It  was  ajar;  Stanton 
must  have  failed  to  close  it.  He  heard  a  dull,  muffled 
sound  which  at  an  ordinary  time  could  not  have  been 
heard  across  the  hall,  but  in  the  stillness  of  the  night  could 
be  heard  as  regularly  as  the  ticking  of  a  clock.  It  was 
constant,  unbroken.  Noble  hesitated  and  turned  again 
into  the  Secretary's  room.  The  latter  was  busy  with  his 
pen,  but  said  as  Noble  came  back :  "  The  President  has 
looked  strangely  to-day  and  was  very  anxious  over  the 
Cabinet  meeting." 

"  I  will  not  disturb  him  now,"  was  the  reply,  "  my  mes 
sage  can  wait." 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Noble ;  he  may  be  out  in  a  short  time." 

Noble  sat  down. 

The  sound  of  the  slow,  heavy  tread  of  the  President, 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  continued. 

"  He  has  a  heavy  load  on  his  shoulders,"  said  the 
Secretary. 

"  And  a  heavier  load  on  his  heart,"  responded  Noble. 

The  unceasing  strides  of  the  statesman  were  still 
heard. 

At  ten  o'clock  there  had  been  a  few  momentary  breaks, 
as  if  he  paused  as  he  turned  at  the  wall,  then  the  muffled 
thud,  creek,  crinch,  thud,  fell  again  upon  their  ears,  as 
those  two  men  sat  in  the  room  across  the  way. 

"  It  is  like  waves  upon  the  beach  after  a  shipwreck," 
said  the  Secretary.  Eleven  o'clock!  Noble  was  still 
there.  He  was  held  by  some  spell.  There  was  silence 
in  the  President's  room,  then  the  ceaseless  tread  was 
again  distinctly  heard,  and  a  sort  of  thrill  possessed  both 
listening  men.  Twelve  o'clock!  The  great  bells  rang 
out  the  midnight  hour  through  the  city.  There  had 
been  no  sound  from  the  President's  room  for  several  min 
utes. 

"  He  has  probably  been  praying !  "  said  Noble. 

Then  the  sound  began  again,  that  dull,  monotonous 
tread  with  its  turnings  at  the  wall. 

One  o'clock!  The  sound  is  so  steady  and  the  Secre 
tary  has  become  so  accustomed  to  it  that  he  only  hears 


460  Love  and  Liberty. 

it  when  he  lifts  his  head  from  his  work  to  listen,  but 
Noble  is  still  there.  It  ceases  for  a  few  moments  and  a 
voice  is  heard. 

"  He  hath  sent  me  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to 
proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  the  opening  of  the  prison 
to  them  that  are  bound,  to  proclaim  the  acceptable  year 
of  the  Lord,  and  the  day  of  vengeance  of  our  God ;  to 
comfort  all  that  mourn,  to  give  unto  them  beauty  for 
ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  and  the  garment  of 
praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness."  Then  the  tread  goes 
on. 

Tico  o'clock!  Without  another  break  in  the  steady 
tramp,  tramp  of  the  man's  lonely  vigil.  At  half-past 
two  the  sound  ceases  again.  The  two  men  listen. 

"  O  God,  I  am  Thy  servant,  my  heart  is  heavy  with 
pain.  I  desire  to  do  thy  will.  Make  it  clear  about  this 
Emancipation  Proclamation.  Whatsoever  Thou  desirest. 
that  will  I  do!  Help,  O  my  God,  in  this  trying  h-mr!  " 

The  walk  is  resumed.  Three  o'clock!  And  the  Secre 
tary's  task  is  done,  and  with  Noble  he  passes  noiselessly 
out,  but  they  turn  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  to  hearken 
and  the  last  sound  in  their  ears  is  the  muftled  brat  of  thar 
footfall. 

Four  o'clock!  Fire  o'clock!  The  morning  is  break 
ing!  Aye,  aye,  in  the  President's  soul !  "  (iod  helping 
me  I'll  do  it!"  he  cries.  The  good  angels  have  won. 
the  crisis  is  past,  the  tide  is  to  turn.  The  Proclamation 
of  Emancipation  will  electrify  the  world!  The  war  will 
indeed  become  a  war  for  freedom ! 

Judge  Slocum  sleeping  in  the  Ashton  churchyard  had 
the  vision  of  the  seer,  and  young  Samuel  at  Seaview  com 
mencement  did  not  prophesy  in  vain  ! 

Lincoln  told  the  Cabinet  the  decision  the  next  day. 

Seward  said :  "  1  approve  the  measure,  Mr.  President, 
but  the  depression  of  the  public  mind  is  so  great,  con 
sequent  upon  our  repeated  reverses,  that  I  fear  the  effect 
of  so  important  a  step.  It  may  be  viewed  as  the  last 
measure  of  an  exhausted  government,  stretching  forth  its 
hand1:  to  Ethiopia  instead  of  Ethionia  stretching  forth 
her  hands  to  the  government,  or  it  might  be  considered 


The  Man  in  the  White  House.         461 

our  last  shriek  on  the  retreat.  I  suggest,  sir,  that  you 
postpone  its  issue  until  you  can  give  it  the  support  of 
military  success,  instead  of  issuing  it  now  upon  the 
greatest  disasters  of  the  war." 

"  The  wisdom  of  Secretary  Seward's  view  strikes  me 
with  preat  force,"  said  Lincoln.  So  he  put  the  draft  of 
the  Proclamation  aside,  waiting  for  a  victory  for  our 
army. 

He  would  not  have  to  wait  long.  Antictam  was  close 
at  hand!  The  death-knell  of  slavery  and  Secession  had 
sounded !  The  decision  of  that  night  was  to  command 
the  applause  of  Christendom ! 

"  Out  of  the  shadows  of  night 
The  world  rolls  into  the  light, 
It  is  daybreak  everywhere  !  " 


462  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

ANTIETAM. 

WE  left  Samuel  and  Jimmie  Smith,  wounded  in  the 
hospital  at  Washington  after  the  first  battle  of  Bull  Run. 
Jimmie  was  severely  hurt,  but  at  length  began  to  improve. 
When  he  became  convalescent,  he  was  granted  a  fur 
lough  till  his  wound  should  be  healed. 

When  he  reached  home,  Sue  hugged  and  kissed  him 
in  his  soldier  clothes,  till  Jimmie  thought  it  nearly  as 
bad  as  Bull  Run. 

"  By  gum,  Jimmie  boy,  we're  mighty  glad  you've  got 
home  again,"  exclaimed  Tom. 

"  Mighty  glad  to  be  here,"  echoed  Jimmie,  "  but  it's 
only  a  furlough  you  know." 

"  Perhaps  we'll  get  it  lengthened,"  said  Tom. 

The  younger  Smiths  shouted  over  Jimmie  in  great 
style. 

"  Jimmie's  come  home,  Jimmie's  come  home,"  they 
cried.  "  hurrah  for  soldier  Jim  !  " 

Wilksviile  was  all  astir. 

"  How  are  you,  old  boy?  Glad  you've  got  back  alive," 
greeted  his  old  friends. 

"  How  are  the  rebs  ?  " 

"  Bad  fellows,"  said  Jimmie ;  "  they  gave  me  a  hard 
one." 

"  You'll  be  all  right  after  a  little,  my  man." 

Jimmie  thought  it  was  almost  worth  getting  wounded 
to  have  such  a  royal  welcome  home. 

But  when  he  went  to  Ashton  and  stood  over  Uncle 
Joe's  newly  made  grave,  with  the  Judge  lying  close  by, 
he  grew  sober. 

''  It  came  near  me ;  I  only  escaped  by  the  skin  of  my 
teeth,"  he  thought.  Bess  had  grown  thin,  and  a  look 


Antietam.  463 

of  sadness  was  on  her  face.  Grandmother  Slocum,  not 
withstanding  her  losses,  did  not  lose  courage. 

"  They've  only  gone  before,"  she  said;  "  I'll  see  them 
again  pretty  soon.  The  Judge  is  waiting  for  me, 
and  Joe  my  boy  (her  voice  trembled)  died  in  a  holy 
cause." 

Wilksville  "  got  up  "  a  big  reception  for  Jimmie,  and 
the  little  town  turned  out  en  masse  to  greet  the  soldier 
boy. 

Samuel  had  only  a  flesh  wound  in  the  thigh,  and  a  few 
days  later  was  all  right.  The  bravery  he  had  displayed 
at  Bull  Run  was  not  forgotten.  The  Zouaves  with 
whom  he  had  fought  the  Black  Horse  Guards  so  desper 
ately,  blazed  his  courage  abroad,  and  what  the  Zouaves 
said  counted.  His  own  captain  also  spoke  in  the  high 
est  terms  of  his  valor.  The  death  of  Colonel  John  Slo 
cum  left  a  vacancy  in  the  regiment,  and  in  line  of  pro 
motion,  Samuel  was  one  day  surprised  to  receive  a  com 
mission  as  captain  of  the  company  in  which  he  had  en 
listed. 

"  I'm  not  capable  of  the  position,"  said  Samuel  in  as 
tonishment. 

"  We'll  risk  you,"  shouted  the  men. 

The  regiment  became  part  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac 
under  McClellan  and  was  in  the  campaign  of  the  Penin 
sula.  It  shared  the  misfortunes  of  Pope's  Bull  Run 
campaign  when  the  Union  men  for  the  second  time  were 
driven  from  that  fatal  field,  and  was  in  position  at 
Sharpsburg  heights  that  dreadful  September  day,  at 
Antietam. 

Jimmie  in  due  time  recovered  and  returned  to  his  regi 
ment.  He  was  promoted  to  the  office  of  sergeant.  With 
Samuel  and  Wendell,  he  \vent  through  the  Peninsula 
campaign,  none  of  them  receiving  wounds,  though  Wen 
dell  suffered  badly  from  sickness,  which  prevailed  about 
the  Chickahominy  river,  but  afterwards  recovered. 

Samuel  and  Rachel  kept  up  their  correspondence,  and 
though  some  of  the  time  not  very  far  from  each  other, 
had  not  met  since  they  parted  on  that  memorable  day  in 
Providence. 

It  seemed  to  Samuel  that  he  must  see  her  again  soon, 


464  Love  and  Liberty. 

and  Rachel,  if  the  truth  were  known,  was  equally  anx 
ious  to  see  Samuel. 

Meanwhile,  another  decisive  battle  was  coming  on. 
Lee  had  determined  to  invade  Maryland.  The  Union 
army  had  been  shattered  by  his  masterly  moves,  and  the 
confidence  in  Union  success  badly  shaken.  Maryland 
had  invoked  deliverance  through  him  from  the  "  tyrant's 
foot." 

Lee  thought  that  by  a  stroke  Maryland  would  turn  ro 
the  Southern  cause  and  success  come  to  the  Confederate 
army ;  so  he  put  his  battalions  in  motion.  Disorder  and 
alarm  reigned  at  Washington.  The  military  authorities 
saw  that  in  removing  the  Union  army  from  the  Penin 
sula,  they  had  unloosed  Lee  and  given  opportunity  for 
him  to  destroy  their  forces  in  Northern  Virginia.  Only 
the  broken  battalions  lay  between  Lee  and  the  nation's 
Capital.  Washington  had  never  been  in  greater  peril 
since  the  war  began,  not  even  when  McDowell's  army 
rushed  in  one  mad  mob  from  Bull  Run. 

McClellan  once  more  assumed  command,  and  directed 
the  army  of  the  Potomac  on  routes  covering  Washington 
and  Baltimore.  Burnside  commanded  the  right  wing, 
Sumner  the  center,  and  Franklin  had  the  left. 

The  Confederates  were  now  on  Northern  soil,  and  Lee 
expected  the  people  of  Maryland  to  join  his  cause,  but 
was  disappointed.  Loyal  women  dared  to  throw  out  the 
flag  of  the  Union  from  their  windows,  and  the  invasion, 
so  far  as  exciting  insurrection  was  concerned,  was  a 
failure  from  the  start. 

McClellan  was  also  after  Lee.  Lee's  plan  of  opera 
tions  fell  into  McClellan's  hands,  which  gave  him  an  ad 
vantage.  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson  now  captured  Harper's 
Ferry,  which  restored  Lee's  fortunes,  for,  had  not  this 
occurred,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to  recross  imo 
Virginia  and  abandon  the  campaign.  He  was,  in  fact, 
already  foiled  by  McClellan  and  was  obliged  to  act  on  the 
defensive.  He  expected,  however,  to  defeat  his  antago 
nist  in  a  trial  of  strength,  for  he  counted  much  on  the 
demoralization  of  the  Union  army,  and  was  elated  with 
his  past  successes.  So  he  took  his  stand  on  the  enclosed* 
land  between  the  Antietam  stream  and  the  Potomac 


Antietam.  465 

river,  the  town  of  Sharpsburg  nestling  behind  the  ridge, 
above  which  the  steeples  of  its  churches  are  visible  from 
the  east  side  of  the  stream. 

Lee's  standing  on  the  defensive  caused  McClellan  to 
cross  the  Antietam  by  three  stone  bridges,  in  order  to 
reach  him.  The  last  of  them  was  opposite  the  Union  left 
under  Burnside,  covered  by  marksmen,  protected  by  rifle 
trenches. 

It  was  a  delightful  September  day  (the  I7th)  which 
with  wondrous  beau-ty  broke  over  the  lovely  Antietam 
valley. 

The  mighty  hosts  were  conscious  that  not  simply  the 
issue  of  a  single  campaign,  but  probably  of  the  whole 
war,  hung  on  that  day's  conflict.  It  made  men  solemn 
as  they  thought  of  the  morrow,  when  so  many  of  them 
would  be  in  eternity. 

Samuel  had  a  talk  with  Jimmie  and  Wendell  before 
taps  sounded. 

"  I  never  felt  before  as  I  do  this  morning,  boys,"  he 
said.  "  I've  sought  to  be  always  faithful  in  battle  and 
entered  with  scarcely  a  fear,  but  I  am  oppressed ;  perhaps 
my  hour  has  come ;  if  I  fall  you  will  find  in  my  breast 
pocket  a  photograph  and  a  curl  of  Rachel's,  and  her  last 
letter  to  me.  Give  them  to  her,  and  tell  her  I  died  with 
her  bright,  beautiful  face  stamped  on  my  soul,  and  we'll 
meet  again  in  Heaven.  If  I  should  die,  I  would  be  glad 
for  father's  sake  to  have  my  body  sent  home,  and  be 
buried  by  mother's  side." 

Jimmie  and  Wendell  had  never  seen  Samuel  in  such 
a  mood.  Tears  stood  in  their  eyes,  and  they  promised  if 
he  fell  to  fulfil  his  wishes  as  far  as  possible. 

''  You  must  also  recover  our  bodies  if  you  survive  and 
we  fall,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Samuel.  Then  the  bugle  rang 
out  shrill  and  strong. 

"  The  hour  has  come ;  we  must  be  brave  to-day  and 
strike  one  more  blow  for  liberty,"  and  Samuel  wrung 
their  hands  with  a  convulsive  grasp,  and,  sword  in  hand, 
strode  to  the  head  of  his  company. 

McClellan  opened  the  fight  and  hurled  the  corps  of 
Hooker  against  Lee's  left.  The  assault  at  first  fell  upon 

3° 


466  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  three  brigades  in  the  east  wood,  and  as  it  happened 
was  the  division  of  Pennsylvania  reserves  under  Meade. 
Horace  Fuller,  now  Colonel,  led  his  regiment  valiantly 
into  battle.  The  attack  was  marked  by  great  impetuos 
ity  on  the  Union  side,  and  stubbornly  resisted  by  the 
Confederates ;  but  after  an  hour's  fighting,  the  enemy 
fell  back  with  great  loss  across  the  open  field,  over  the 
Hagerstown  road  to  the  woods  beyond,  around  the 
Dunker  church  where  Jackson's  reserves  lay.  Hooker 
thrust  forward  his  center,  but  as  they  approached  the 
crest  of  the  plateau,  Jackson's  reserves,  with  Ewell's 
division,  emerged  from  the  woods  and  joined  issue 
with  terrible  ferocity.  The  combatants  were  equal  in 
mettle,  facing  each  other  on  the  open  plain  within 
short  range,  neither  side  yielding,  both  fighting  desper 
ately. 

Colonel  Horace  Fuller  was  at  home  in  such  conflicts, 
and  his  nerve  never  forsook  him,  but  never  before  had 
the  enemy  appeared  so  invincible  in  actual  combat. 

With  his  fierce  determination,  he  pressed  gallantly 
forward. 

"  Steady,  my  men,"  he  shouted.  "  Xow,  my  lads,  give 
them  the  cold  steel."  The  charge  was  terrific.  Gleam 
ing  bayonets  held  by  Northern  veterans  found  their  way 
into  Southern  soldiers,  and  yet  the  Confederates  dosed 
up  the  broken  ranks,  while  the  bodies  of  "  boys  in  blue  " 
and  "  boys  in  gray  "  lay  in  ranks  like  swaths  of  grass  cut 
by  the  scythe. 

"  Once  more  to  the  charge,"  sang  out  Horace. 
"  Strike  for  freedom,  for  Union." 

They  advanced,  the  batteries  mowed  them  down  in 
heaps.  Cannons  boomed,  musketry  rattled,  swords  and 
bayonets  flashed  in  the  September  sun.  Horace  never 
flinched ;  neither  did  his  men.  The  mortal  struggle  con 
tinued  till  the  opposing  forces  tore  each  other  to  shreds. 
A  large  number  of  the  rebel  officers  lay  dead  or  wounded 
upon  the  field.  Horace  was  near  the  Dunker  church 
close  to  General  Hooker.  A  detachment  of  Confederates 
closed  round  the  two  Union  officers  who  had  only  a  small 
number  of  soldiers  near  them.  The  rebels  saw  and  knew 
them.  Knew  that  "  Fighting  Joe  "  and  "  Kansas  Ful- 


Antietam.  467 

ler "  swung  heavier  swords  and  shot  more  unerringly 
than  other  men  whom  they  had  met. 

Their  comparatively  defenseless  position  awakened  the 
rebel  courage,  and  the  remnant  of  a  regiment  dashed  to 
wards  them. 

"  Down  with  the  Yankees !  "  shouted  the  Colonel,  wav 
ing  his  sword. 

"  Come  on,  boys !  "  commanded  Horace  to  his  fewr  men. 

Hooker  on  his  horse  made  a  splendid  mark  for  their 
rifles,  but  he  rushed  impetously  against  the  enemy's 
ranks.  A  heavy  discharge  of  musketry  killed  or 
wounded  half  the  little  company  of  Union  men  around 
Horace.  But  the  fire  before  they  fell  had  also  wrought 
much  mischief  to  the  rebels. 

"  To  the  rescue  of  our  General !  "  called  Fuller  again. 

They  made  another  charge,  their  bayonets  flashing  in 
the  sunlight.  Many  of  their  assailants  fell,  but  they 
could  not  long  hold  out  in  the  unequal  contest. 

General  Hooker  was  fighting  the  men  about  him  des 
perately,  but  had  been  hit  in  the  foot  by  a  rifle  ball,  and 
could  scarcely  keep  his  seat.  Another  shot  brought  down 
his  horse  and  they  tumbled  to  the  ground  together.  Now 
Horace  began  to  use  his  sword  with  deadly  effect. 
Three  men  came  upon  him  at  once.  One  thrust  a  bayo 
net  at  his  heart,  which  Horace  turned  aside  with  a  stroke 
of  his  sword ;  another  aimed  a  pistol  at  his  head,  but  be 
fore  the  trigger  was  pressed,  the  man's  head  rolled  from 
his  shoulders  with  one  stroke  from  that  massive  sword 
which  Horace  Fuller  knew  how  to  use  so  well.  The 
blood  spurted  upon  Fuller's  face.  The  third  man  with  a 
musket,  shot  Horace  in  the  leg  while  the  lat'er  was  de 
capitating  his  companion.  It  was  the  leg  which  had  been 
broken  at  Newbern,  and  a  faintness  seized  Horace.  But 
the  case  was  desperate.  He  must  ke?p  up.  Hooker 
was  tangled  helplessly  in  the  trappings  of  the  horse. 

"  Here's  to  your  death,  my  man  !  "  he  called  to  his 
foe,  then  gave  one  more  lunge  with  his  sword,  stabbing 
the  rebel  to  the  heart  and  rolled  on  to  the  ground  with 
his  sword  still  in  his  foe's  body,  his  hand  holding  cmvul- 
sively  the  handle,  just  as  a  minie  ball  struck  his  head. 
The  roar  about  him  was  deafening;  the  artillery  tliun- 


468  Love  and  Liberty. 

clered  and  musketry  rattled,  while  the  groans  of  the  dying 
rang  in  his  ear, — then  he  knew  no  more. 

As  Horace  fell,  part  of  his  regiment  which  had  been 
separated  from  their  Colonel,  arrived  on  the  spot, 
charged  upon  his  assailants,  and  drove  them  bac'  .  Some 
of  the  men  leaned  over  the  motion'ess  form  of  Horace, 
and  attempted  to  raise  him,  but  his  hand  sti.l  grasped  the 
sword  hilt,  the  blade  of  which  was  fleshed  in  the  foe's 
body.  At  first  they  could  not  loosen  the  hold  and  his 
dead  foe  was  raised  with  him.  They  tried  to  ^ha^e  off 
the  man,  and  at  length  succeeded  in  pulling  the  sword 
from  his  body,  but  could  not  loosen  Horace's  hold  from 
the  hilt ;  so  they  bore  him  from  the  field,  the  sword  stul 
in  his  hand. 

Other  men  loosened  General  Hooker  from  the  trap 
pings  of  his  horse,  and  carried  him  to  the  rear. 
Hooker's  corps  had  hrvn  terribly  shattered  and  broken 
up,  and  in  spite  of  all  our  men's  efforts,  we  were 
only  saved  from  disaster  at  this  point  bv  the  arrival  on 
the  field  of  Stunner  with  his  corps. 

The  reader  now  is  directed  to  the  Burnside  flank  which 
contained  Captain  Fuller,  Sergeant  Smith  and  Wendell 
Aldrich. 

At  eight  A.  M.,  McClellan  ordered  Burnside  to  carry 
the  lower  stone  bridge  and  then  gain  possession  of  the 
Sharpsburg  heights. 

It  was  a  duty  of  supreme  importance.  After  some 
delay,  Burnside  carried  the  bridge  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet.  Captain  Fuller  marched  at  the  head  of  his 
company,  bayonets  fixed. 

"  Forward !  Charge !  "  he  called,  and  every  man 
stood  true  and  firm  as  he  advanced  under  the  raking  fire 
of  the  enemy.  Man  after  man  fell  in  dying  agony  by 
the  side  of  our  friends,  but  on  the  regiment  marched,  the 
Confederates  giving  way  before  them.  Once  over,  the 
patriots  engaged  the  foe  with  unyielding  courage,  driv 
ing  them  from  the  intrenchments.  About  four  o'clock 
that  afternoon,  Burnside  was  commanded  to  carry  the  bat 
teries  in  his  front  at  any  cost. 

He  gallantlv  obeyed.  Getting  his  troops  well  in  hand, 
and  sending  a  portion  of  artillery  to  the  front,  he  ad- 


Antietam.  469 

vanced  them  rapidly  and  with  determined  vigor,  straight 
up  the  hill  on  top  of  which  the  enemy  had  their  most 
dangerous  battery.  The  movement  was  in  plain  view 
of  McClellan's  position.  As  Burnside  went  forward, 
brave  men  at  every  step  failing,  under  those  rebel  batter 
ies,  the  battle  seemed  to  open  anew  in  all  directions.  The 
fight  in  the  ravine  was  in  full  progress ;  tlie  batteries 
which  Porter  supported  fired  with  new  vigor;  Franklin 
was  blazing  away  at  the  right  and  every  hill-top,  ridge 
and  piece  of  woods  along  the  whole  line  was  crested  and 
veiled  in  white  clouds  of  smoke. 

"  Four  miles  of  battle,  its  glory  all  visible,  its  horrors 
veiled,  the  fate  of  the  Republic  hanging  on  the  hour," 
presented  a  scene  of  grandeur  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Burnside's  guns  soon  S-ienced  the  enemy's  artillery 
on  the  nearest  hill.  Then  came  the  infantry,  moving 
steadily  and  rapidly  up,  broad,  dark  lines  easily  seen 
without  a  glass.  On,  on  they  went  and  Samuel  was  in 
the  column.  Amidst  the  thunder  of  battle  and  blue 
flashes  of  smoke,  men  falliing  and  groaning,  the  legions 
swept  up  the  hill.  The  guns  from  the  other  height  sent 
an  angry  tempest  of  shell  among  our  troops.  Then  a 
rebel  battle  line  appeared  on  the  edge,  pouring  showers 
of  musketry  into  the  Union  ranks.  White  spaces 
showed  where  men  were  falling,  but  the  ranks  closed  up 
instantly. 

Burnside's  brigades  were  in  heavy  column.  The 
rebels  dared  not  attack  them  with  bayonets.  Their  met 
tle  was  too  well  known.  More  infantry  came  up.  It 
was  a  desperate  attack.  Could  the  height  be  held? 
Burnside  did  not  know.  He  was  on  the  defensive  now, 
but  fought  with  great  firmness,  and  sent  to  McClellan 
for  assistance.  McClellan  saw  that  Burnside  was 
pressed,  and  his  face  was  clouded  with  anxiety.  The 
messenger  arrived. 

"  I  want  troops  and  guns;  if  you  do  not  spare  them, 
I  cannot  hold  my  position  half  an  hour." 

McClellan  glanced  in  the  western  sky  as  Napoleon  did 
at  Marengo. 

"  Tell  General  Burnside  that  this  is  the  battle  of  the 
war.  He  must  hold  his  ground  till  dark  at  any  cost. 


4/o  Love  and  Liberty. 

I  will  send  him  Miller's  battery ;  I  can  do  nothing  more ; 
I  have  no  infantry." 

The  messenger  started  to  return,  but  the  General 
called  him  back. 

"  Tell  him  if  he  cannot  hold  the  ground,  then  the 
bridge  till  the  last  man  !  always  the  bridge  !  If  the  bridge 
is  lost,  all  is  lost !  " 

The  sun  was  fading  in  the  west.  Not  half  an  hour  of 
daylight  was  left,  and  as  the  sun  went  down,  the  rebels 
halted  and  ceased  firing,  withdrawing  their  troops. 
Fourteen  hours  of  deadly  combat  had  been  waged.  \Ye 
had  attacked  the  enemy  in  position,  driven  them  from 
their  line  on  one  flank,  and  secured  a  footing  within  it 
on  the  other. 

That  was  the  bloodiest  day  in  American  history. 
Twenty-five  thousand  men  were  killed  and  wounded, 
about  equally  divided  between  the  two  armies. 

Our  forces  slept  that  night  on  the  battle-fieM,  con 
quered  hv  their  valor,  covered  with  dead  and  dying, 
among  them  Captain  Samuel  Fuller  covered  icilh  his 
blood. 

The  next  nicrht,  Lee  retreated  across  the  Potomac  into 
Virginia,  his  Northern  mission  ended  and  his  boastful 
spirit  humbled. 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  471 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

UNDER  THE  SILENT  STARS. 

"  Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord, 
He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of  wrath  are  stored. 
He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightning  of  his  terrible  swift  sword. 
His  truth  is  marching  on. 

In  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  Christ  was  born  across  the  sea, 
With  a  glory  in  his  bosom  which  transfigures  you  and  me. 
As  He  died  to  make  men  holy,  let  us  die  to  make  men  free, 
While  God  is  marching  on." 

WHEN  Burnside's  massive  column  marched  up  that 
height,  Samuel  bravelv  led  his  men  to  the  mortal  conflict. 

"  Once  more,  men,  to  the  battle !  "  rang  out  his  manly 
voice  clear  and  strong. 

The  company  had  seen  hard  fighting,  but  faced  danger 
without  flinching  that  dreadful  day. 

"  Forward,  men ;  aim,  fire !  "  came  the  order,  and  up 
the  hill  the  heroic  men  went.  They  gained  the  heights, 
the  rebels  withdrawing  for  the  moment.  There  stood 
the  enemy's  battery  ready  for  the  use  of  our  troops. 
Samuel  sprang  to  the  guns,  raised  the  Union  flag  upon 
them,  and  commenced  to  work  the  battery  against  the 
Confederates. 

"  Man  the  guns  against  them,  boys,"  he  shouted,  and 
the  men,  maddened  by  the  fearful  struggle,  sent  death 
into  the  ranks  of  the  rebels.  The  enemy,  however,  were 
not  idle.  Their  dark  lines  of  infantry  poured  a  terrific 
fire  upon  tne  Union  boys.  Their  batteries  drove  shells, 
exploding  with  awful  slaughter  into  the  very  center  of 
Burnside's  column.  Captain  Samuel  was  on  the  height, 
aided  by  his  men,  firing  gun  after  gun  with  deadly  pre 
cision,  into  the  valorous  troops  of  the  rebels,  mowing 
them  down  with  fearful  s'aughter. 


472  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  I  guess  we'll  never  see  our  mothers  again,"  shouted 
Wendell  as  he  rammed  the  balls  home. 

"  Somebody  has  to  die  to  bring  liberty  to  men,"  an 
swered  Samuel. 

"  Thousands  of  brave  men  have  offered  themselves  a 
sacrifice  this  d^y. 

Just  then  the  Confederate  infantry  fired  a  deadly  volley 
at  our  men  working  the  battery,  and  almost  simulta 
neously  a  terrible  tempest  of  shell  from  a  battery  above 
them  struck  the  Union  iorces. 

It  was  a  dreadful  moment.  The  Union  boys  were 
mowed  down  in  rows  and  lay  in  such  heaps  that  the  liv 
ing  men  were  for  a  moment  stunned  with  the  shock. 

"Ran 01  'C  the  dead;  close  up  the  ranks!"  called  the 
ringing  voice  of  Burnside  along  the  line.  "  Give  them 
the  grape  and  canister,  lively  now." 

As  Jimmie  looked  for  Samuel  after  that  discharge  of 
musketry  and  bursting  shell,  he  saw  that  our  hero  had 
fallen.  He  had  been  in  the  act  of  firing  the  largest  gun 
as  the  shock  came.  Jimmie,  at  the  command  of  Burn- 
side  to  remove  the  dead,  called  to  Wendell :  "  Captain 
Fuller  has  fallen,  help  me  care  for  him !  " 

The  two  boys  sprang  to  where  Samuel  lay  ;  he  was 
yet  breathing  and  conscious.  A  dreadful  siHit  met  their 
gaze.  A  minie  ball  had  pierced  his  neck,  but  had  evi 
dently  passed  out  without  touching  the  vital  part.  B'ood 
was  oozing  from  the  wound.  His  left  foot  and  lower 
part  of  the  leg  were  torn  and  mangled  by  a  bursting 
shell,  while  his  right  side  had  also  been  severely  injured 
from  a  similar  cause. 

"  Tenderly,  Wendell,  we  must  move  him  out  yonder, 
away  from  the  line ;  our  men  are  pressing  up  here  and 
will  crush  him  to  death  if  his  wounds  do  not  kill  him." 

The  two  boys  took  him  in  their  arms,  carried  him  out 
from  the  ranks  and  laid  him  gently  on  the  green  grass 
some  rods  away.  His  face  was  livid  but  covered  with  a 
smile,  and  those  blue  eyes  beamed  down  upon  them  with 
love  and  good- will. 

"  My  time  has  come,  remember  the  message,"  he  said 
to  them  faintly. 

"  Close  np  the  ranks,"  came  the  order  again. 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  473 

"  Left  foot  fonvard,  march!  " 

The  regiment  went  by  the  wounded  captain,  and  as 
the  remains  of  Samuel's  company  passed  his  prostrate 
form,  the  blood  flowing  from  many  wounds,  the  blue  eyes 
lit  up  with  a  beautiful  smile,  and  with  a  great  effort,  yet 
with  an  almost  cheerful  voice,  he  said:  "  Boys,  I  can't  be 
ivith  you  any  more.  Yon  would  have  realized  some  of 
the  horrors  the  zvar  can  bring.  I  gladly  die  in  freedom's 
cause.  Jimmie — remember — tell  father — good-by — and 
give — Rachel — my — love  !  "  Then  they  left  him  and 
pressed  on  into  the  fight. 

When  the  troops  later  in  the  day  went  down  the  hill, 
they  left  Samuel  lying  on  the  green  grass,  stained  with 
his  blood,  with  the  night  coming  on,  and  soon  the  silent 
stars  looked  down  upon  the  ghastly  spectacle. 

Rachel  Aldrich  was  uneasy.  Seven  months  had 
passed  away  since  she  entered  the  hospital  service  as  a 
nurse  in  the  Sanitary  Commission.  It  had  been  a 
service  which  she  delighted  to  render,  and  she  was  emi 
nently  fitted  for  the  work.  Her  voice  had  soothed  the 
dying  hours  of  brave  men,  with  holy  song;  her  skilful 
fingers  smoothed  the  pillows  of  sufferers ;  her  bright, 
cheerful  face  sent  courage  and  hope  into  despairing 
hearts.  She  had  written  letters  home  to  the  loved  ones 
of  the  soldiers  from  the  hospital,  some  of  them  dying 
messages ;  and  sent  their  keepsakes  to  the  stricken  hearts 
at  the  North  who  waited  in  vain  for  the  return  of  the 
husband  ai:d  sons  at  the  front.  The  inmates  of  that 
hospital  loved  her,  and  how  could  they  help  it?  She 
was  never  too  tired  to  aid  them.  Often  she  would  take 
her  Bible  and  read  over  some  of  the  sacred  passages, 
describing  the  "  many  mansions,"  or  the  "  new  Jerusa 
lem,"  or  telling  the  comfort  and  strength  which  God 
would  give  to  those  who  trusted  Him. 

One  day  a  poor,  maimed  fellow  came  into  the  hospital. 
"  He  is  fatallv  hurt,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  can  live  but 
a  few  hours."  His  breast  was  crushed,  his  leg  broken, 
his  arm  wounded,  he  could  only  breathe  with  convulsive 
gasps.  She  moistened  his  parched  lips  with  cool  water, 
bathed  his  face  and  brow  and  administered  medicine, 


474  Love  and  Liberty. 

stroked  his  hands,  and  sang  sweet  songs  of  Christ  and 
heaven. 

Part  of  the  time  he  was  unconscious.  Watching  him, 
she  saw  his  eyes  open.  She  told  him  his  condition,  and 
he  smiled. 

"  Do  you  regret  the  service  you  have  rendered  to  your 
country?"  she  asked. 

The  poor  fellow,  between  gasps,  brokenly  said : 
"  When — I — enlisted — I  gave — my — body — to  my — coun 
try — and — my — soul — to  God — and — it's — all — right !  " 

Soon  after  he  died  and  Rachel  sent  the  message  home. 

At  another  time,  a  young  fellow,  terribly  wounded, 
was  brought  in  and  assigned  to  Rachels  care,  lie  was 
conscioi.  but  moaned  terribly. 

"  I've  got  to  die,  and  I'm  afraid  to  die,"  he  groaned. 

"Why  are  you  afraid  to  die?"  she  asked. 

"  I've  been  wicked  and  am  not  a  Christian,"  he  an 
swered.  "  O,  mother,  mother,  I  always  meant  to  be 
come  a  good  man,  but  kept  putting  it  off,"  he  cried  in 
great  agony. 

Then  Rachel  read  the  story  of  the  thief  on  the  cross, 
and  the  invitations  of  the  Saviour  to  penitent  hearts,  and 
sung  with  her  charming  voice  that  old  hymn  of  the 
Christian  Church  written  by  William  Cowpcr,  which 
notwithstanding  its  mixed  metaphors,  has  brought  help 
and  comfort  to  thousands  of  hearts : 

"  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, 

Drawn  from  F.mantiel's  veins, 
And  sinners  plunged  beneath  that  flood 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains,"  etc. 

The  sweet  voice  entered  into  the  young  man's  soul, 
with  its  cheery  message  of  salvation  to  him  in  his  dying 
hour.  Ere  the  music  had  ceased,  he  looked  up  into 
Rachel's  eyes  with  a  smile  on  his  white  face  and  whis 
pered:  "It's  all  right  now,  I  die  happy.  Tell  mother 
I'll  meet  her  beyond  the  river,"  and  thus  he  passed  away. 

Marion  had  returned  from  the  smallpox  hospital 
which  was  then  vacant,  and  had  assumed  her  duties  with 
Rachel.  Captain  Thomas  Gardiner  had  returned  to  duty. 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  475 

Chester  Nye  with  his  empty  sleeve  had  been  honorably 
discharged  and  g-one  home,  while  Tim  Quinn  had  re 
covered  and  joined  his  regiment. 

Just  before  the  battle  of  Antietam,  Rachel  said: 
"  Marion,  will  you  go  with  me  to  the  field  hospital 
service?  " 

"  I  am  willing,"  replied  Marion. 

"  I  am  anxious  about  Samuel,"  continued  Rachel,  the 
blushes  mounting  her  cheek. 

"  It  is  thought  a  decisive  battle  will  soon  be  fought ; 
he  may  need  me ;  if  not,  others  will.  Wendell  is  with 
him ;  I  feel  that  I  must  go." 

With  sorrow,  the  doctor  allowed  the  two  women  to  de 
part  for  the  field  service. 

"  I'll  never  get  their  enual  again,"  he  said,  "  and  field 
hospitals  are  no  place  for  women  anyway." 

Nevertheless  they  went,  and  were  at  the  rear  when  the 
struggle  at  Antietam  began. 

All  day  long,  Rachel  was  greatly  oppressed. 

"  I  saw  Samuel  in  a  dream  last  night,"  she  said  to 
Marion.  "  He  was  dying  and  calling  for  me." 

"  Cheer  up,"  answered  Marion,  "  he  may  escape  injury, 
but  this  is  a  terrible  battle." 

The  wounded  were  brought  in  ambulances,  surgeons 
were  busy,  terrible  groans  fell  from  men's  lips,  prayers 
and  .curses  mingled  together.  Rachel  would  never  for 
get  that  day.  Her  soul  was  filled  with  horror  at  the 
awful  carnage,  but  her  spirit  faltered  not.  Hour  after 
hour  she  ministered  to  the  wounded  and  dying.  Mar 
ion  also  kept  steadily  at  her  post.  "  I  never  saw  such 
women,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  surgeons.  "  You  must 
take  nourishment  and  drink  a  glass  of  wine  or  you  will 
certainly  collapse."  Thus  admonished,  they  obeyed. 

'  The  Second  Rhode  Island  under  Burnside  are  hold 
ing  the  Sharpsburg  heights,  one  of  the  soldiers  tells  me," 
said  Rachel.  "  Samuel  and  Wendell  are  both  in  that 
regiment." 

"  Horace,  with  his  regiment,  I  hear  was  in  the  first 
movement  of  the  day  under  Fighting  Joe  Hooker,  as  the 
men  call  him.  Hooker  has  been  wounded,  but  I  can  get 
no  word  from  Horace,"  returned  Marion. 


476  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  night  had  come.  The  roar  of 
cannon  ceased  and  the  din  of  battle  was  hushed.  Rachel 
could  hear  the  bugle  on  the  distant  battle-field  as  the  sun 
went  down. 

"  I  must  go  and  find  them ;  I  can  wait  no  longer,"  she 
said. 

"  I  will  go  with  you, "said  Marion. 

They  explained  that  they  had  friends  whom  they 
wished  to  inquire  for,  and  after  violent  protests  from  the 
authorities,  departed. 

They  came  to  the  lower  bridge  and  reached  Burnside's 
headquarters.  The  sentinels  explained  to  the  General 
their  anxiety,  and  asked  if  he  could  give  them  informa 
tion  concerning  Captain  Fuller's  company  of  the  Second 
Rhode  Island. 

"  Captain  Fuller  fell  mortally  wounded  on  the  heights," 
said  the  General. 

"  A  squad,  including  Sergeant  Smith,  Private  Aldrich 
and  others  are  just  starting  to  find  the  body,  bury  him 
and  mark  the  spot  that,  if  possible,  it  may  afterwards  be 
sent  home." 

Rachel  grew  white  and  staggered.  Marion  put  her 
arm  about  her  and  gave  the  girl  support.  At  that  mo 
ment,  Wendell  saw  her  and  fell  upon  her  neck,  sob 
bing. 

"Rachel,  sister  Rachel,"  cried  Wendell,  "you  here? 
How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  I  came  for  you  and  Samuel,"  she  answered. 

"  God  help  us,"  said  Wendell,  "  Samuel  is  dead ;  we 
go  to  give  him  a  soldier's  burial." 

Jimmie  Smith  watched  the  fearless  girl.  "  I  will  go 
with  you,"  she  quietly  said. 

"  Madam,  will  you  be  able  to  endure  the  sight?  "  asked 
Burnside.  "  You  would  better  wait  here  until  they 
return." 

"  I  must  go,"  returned  the  suffering  woman  ;  "  kindly 
allow  me." 

"  I  will  also  go;  Captain  Fuller  was  my  cousin,"  said 
Marion. 

Burnside  demurred,  but  finally  gave  consent,  and  the 
brave,  resolute  women  went  on  the  field  where  the  dead 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  477 

and  dying  lay  in  rows  and  heaps.  The  night  was  not 
dark  and  the  sight  sent  terror  into  their  hearts. 

"  Water,  water,  for  God's  sake  give  me  water ! " 
Marion  held  a  glass  of  wine  to  the  dying  soldier's  lips. 

"  Curse  the  rebels,"  cried  a  voice  near  them. 

"  Save  me,  save  me,"  cried  another. 

"  I  am  dying,  dying,  O  God  have  mercy,"  broke  from 
a  poor  fellow's  lips. 

"  Mother,  mother,  I  did  pray ;  Jesus  receive  my  spirit," 
came  from  a  man  close  to  Rachel. 

The  groans  were  terrible.  There  was  blood,  blood, 
blood  everywhere.  Here  and  there  were  squads  of  men 
in  the  starlight  burying  the  dead  or  putting  the  wounded 
into  hospital  cars  and  carrying  them  gently  to  the  rear. 
Rachel  went  on,  h_r  soul  dumb  with  agony. 

The  squad  had  one  of  the  hospital  cars  with  the  bed 
suspended  by  india-rubber  tugs,  mentioned  earlier  in  this 
history,  one  of  the  kettles  on  wheels  for  making  soup, 
bottles  of  wine  and  brandy,  nourishing  and  strengthen 
ing  cordials. 

Perhaps  some  of  those  whom  they  sought  might  yet 
be  alive.  Who  could  tell?  On  they  pressed,  the  stars 
shining  silently  down. 

"  \Ve  must  attend  to  Captain  Fuller  first,"  said  Ser 
geant  Smith.  "  After  him,  the  others." 

Marion  prayed  silently  and  clung  close  to  Rachel,  as 
they  stepped  over  the  dying  and  dead  bodies,  with  the 
white  faces,  many  of  them  stark  and  still,  looking  at  them 
in  the  starlight. 

"  Here  is  the  nlace,"  said  Sergeant  Smith.  "  There  he 
is."  He  approached  the  place  where  Samuel  lay.  "  He 
was  my  dear  and  best  friend,"  sobbed  Jimmie.  The 
ground  was  red  with  blood — Samuel's  blood. 

"  Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow,"  said  Wendell,  "  he  was 
the  bravest  man  I  ever  knew." 

Rachel  sprang  forward  and  looked  at  her  beloved,  ly 
ing  there  so  white  and  still  on  the  bloody  battle-field, 
under  the  starlit  sky. 

This,  then,  was  the  way  she  had  met  him  whom  her 
soul  loved,  and  whom  she  had  so  anxiously  waited  and 
hoped  to  see.  At  first  she  feared  she  would  sink,  but 


478  Love  and  Liberty. 

Marion  put  her  arm  about  the  suffering  girl,  and  she 
became  strong  and  determined.  She  dropped  on  her 
knees  and  kissed  his  cold  lips  time  after  time,  with  her 
warm  breath  touching  his  face.  The  others  stood  by 
with  tears  on  their  faces,  respecting  her  great  sorrow. 
As  she  knelt,  she  thought  she  detected  a  slight  motion  of 
the  mouth  and  heard  a  faint  moan.  Could  she  be  mis 
taken?  No,  surely  not.  She  placed  her  hand  on  his 
heart.  //  was  beating!  joy!  joy!  rapture! 

"He  is  alive!"  she  cried  in  ecstasy. 

"Alive?"  exclaimed  Jimmie ;  "it  isn't  possible!" 

"  lie  is,"  cried  Rachel ;  "  Samuel!  Samuel!  It  is  Rachel 
come  for  you! " 

They  poured  some  brandy  down  his  throat ;  he  slightly 
strangled ;  they  put  warm  applications  to  his  heart,  raised 
him  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  the  gaping  wound  in  his 
neck  appeared.  Rachel  now,  however,  had  strength  for 
almost  anything.  "  The  car! "  she  cried.  It  was  brought. 
Rachel  still  bent  over  him.  "  /  TC///  never  leave  ihee  nor 
forsake  thee,  Samuel,"  rang  out  her  voice  joyfully.  She 
saw  the  torn  and  bleeding  limb,  but  she  never  thought  of 
fainting  now.  They  placed  him  in  the  car.  Jimmie  and 
\Yendell,  with  the  women,  accompanied  him  back  over 
the  mountain  side,  across  the  bridge,  to  the  field  hospital. 
The  same  sights  and  sounds  as  formerly  were  on  the 
dreadful  battlefield,  and  cries  from  the  wounded  rent  the 
air.  But  Rachel  could  hear  it  now;  Samuel,  at  least,  was 
alive ;  he  had  once  faintly  whispered  her  name,  the  sweet 
est  sound  she  ever  heard.  As  they  walked  along,  Jimmie 
and  \Yendell  saw  the  betrothal  ring  glistening  in  the 
starlight.  They  reached  the  hospital  with  their  burden. 
Samuel  was  lifted  out.  placed  on  a  cot,  further  stimu 
lated,  revived  and  nourished. 

The  surgeon  examined  his  wounds.  "  A  bad  case ;  I 
fear  it  is  impossible  to  save  him,"  he  said. 

"  You  must  save  him,  doctor,  he  is  to  be  my  husband ; 
do  your  best,  sir." 

"  I'll  do  anything  possible  for  you.  Miss  Aldrich,  after 
your  service  this  day,"  answered  the  surgeon,  "  but  can 
promise  nothing." 

"  We  shall  have  to  operate  very  soon,  as  the  limb  will 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  479 

mortify  if  we  do  not,  and  his  strength  has  departed.  Is 
he  a  man  of  strong  constitution  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  More  than  an  average,  I  am  sure,  doctor.  He  was  a 
very  Hercules  at  school." 

"  That  is  favorahle,"  was  the  answer. 

Samuel  was  conscious  of  the  doctor's  statements  but 
did  not  attempt  to  talk.  After  being  thoroughly  warmed 
with  proper  liquid  food  and  cordials  the  surgeon  said : 

"  Captain  Fuller,  I  must  now  amputate  your  leg  and 
dress  your  wounds.  Here  is  the  anesthetic ;  Miss  Aldrich 
will  assist  me." 

Samuel  looted  into  Rachel's  face.  "  If  I  do  not  come 
out  of  it,"  he  whispered,  "  remember  I  always  loved 
you.  Good -by." 

"  You  will  come  out  of  the  operation  all  right,  Samuel ; 
Rachel  is  here  to  care  for  you.  Go  to  sleep  now,  and 
wake  up  a  new  man,  my  darling." 

So  he  smilingly  received  the  anesthetic  and  was  soon 
in  the  land  of  pleasant  dreams. 

Samuel  was  fortunate  in  having  one  of  the  most  skilful 
of  surgeons  in  charge  of  his  case,  and  out  of  regard  for 
Rachel,  he  took  particular  pains  with  his  patient.  He 
sewed  up  the  wound  in  the  neck.  "  The  ball  just  missed 
the  jugular  vein,"  said  the  surgeon.  "  A  narrow  escape, 
that."' 

The  piece  of  shell  had  torn  an  ugly  wound  in  his  side, 
which  had  bled  badly,  but  had  failed  to  touch  the  vitals. 
The  leg  must  be  removed. 

"  Can  I  save  that  knee  ?  "  said  the  doctor  musingly. 

"  Do  if  possible,  doctor,"  urged  Rachel. 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  he  returned. 

The  foot  had  been  torn  off,  and  the  lower  bone  of  the 
leg-  badly  crushed,  but  the  bone  appeared  to  be  sound  fur 
ther  up. 

"  I  think  it  is  worth  trying,"  said  the  doctor. 

He  left  just  as  much  as  he  dared  of  the  limb,  and  saved 
the  knee. 

"  I  think  it  will  be  all  right,"  he  said,  "  and  if  he  should 
recover,  that  knee  will  be  of  much  value  to  the  Captain." 

It  was  a  clean  operation,  and  the  Captain  came  out  of 
the  ether  quietly,  but  very  weak. 


480  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  surgeon  said  aside  to  Rachel :  "  If  the  shock  and 
loss  of  blood  don't  kill  him,  he  will  recover;  he  was  a 
very  weak  man  for  such  an  operation,  but  it  was  the  only 
thing  that  would  save  his  life.  I  have  done  my  very 
best,  madam,  for  you  both." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,"  said  Rachel. 

Samuel  groaned  a  good  deal  that  night,  but  Rachel  re 
mained  with  him  all  the  time,  ministering  to  his  necessi 
ties. 

In  the  morning  the  surgeon  said :  "  His  constitution 
must  be  strong  to  bear  the  operation  so  well  in  his  weak 
condition.  lie's  all  right  now;  you  must  get  some  rest. 
Let  your  friend,  Mrs.  Fuller,  take  your  place  while  you 
sleep,"  but  Rachel  refused  till  noon,  when  Samuel  ap 
peared  to  be  sleeping  well.  Then  at  Marion's  earnest  re 
quest,  she  left  him  in  his  cousin's  care. 

The  strain  upon  Rachel  had  been  terrible,  but  her 
strong,  optimistic  nature  and  excellent  physical  health 
caused  her  to  bear  up  under  the  severe  trial. 

When  Rachel  awoke,  there  was  some  commotion  in 
the  hospital. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  cried. 

"  It  is  Horace ;  I  found  him  here  after  you  went  to 
sleep!  "  said  Marion.  "  He  was  shot  while  fighting  with 
General  Hooker.  They  have  only  just  been  able  to  un 
clasp  his  hand  from  his  sword,  but  he  is  now  conscious, 
and  the  doctors  will  soon  dress  his  wounds." 

"  Mr.  Fuller,"  said  Rachel,  "  I  am  glad  to  meet  you 
again,  but  sorry  you  have  received  other  wounds." 

"  I'm  better  now,  thank  you,"  returned  Horace  faintly. 

The  ball  had  gone  through  the  bone  of  his  leg,  shatter 
ing  it  again,  and  the  wound  in  his  head  was  severe.  The 
exhaustion  and  pain  with  the  desperate  fight  in  his  last 
conscious  moments  had  badly  injured  him.  His  wounds, 
however,  were  dressed  and  he  wrent  to  sleep. 

Samuel  was  doing  well. 

When  the  two  cousins  were  able  to  see  each  other,  a 
touching  scene  occurred. 

"  Samuel,"  said  Horace,  "  I  have  heard  much  of  you, 
but  have  never  seen  you  before." 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  481 

"  My  pleasure  at  the  meeting  is  equal  to  yours,  Cousin 
Horace,"  replied  Samuel. 

Rachel  and  Marion  looked  into  the  pale  faces  of  their 
loved  ones,  and  groaned  over  the  horrors  of  war. 


September  18,  1862,  James  Fuller  at  Seaview  re 
ceived  the  following  telegram : 

"  ANTIETAM  BATTLEFIELD,  September  17. 
"  Your  son  Samuel  fell  mortally  wounded  this  after 
noon,  bravely  fighting  at  the  head  of  his  company.     We 
go  to  search  for  his  body.  .  JAMES  SMITH." 

The  telegram  was  carried  to  James  at  the  shop.  He 
read  it  and  staggered  to  a  seat  near  by. 

"  God  help  me,"  he  groaned,  "  I  feared  it  all  the  time; 
Samuel  is  dead;  can  I  ever  bear  it?  " 

His  shopmates  rallied  about  him  and  sought  to  com 
fort  the  stricken  man. 

"  I  must  go  home,"  he  said. 

A  shopmate  went  with  him ;  Lucy  saw  them  coming. 
Greatly  alarmed  she  met  them  at  the  door.  James  placed 
the  telegram  in  her  hand  and  groaned  aloud :  "  My  boy, 
my  boy,"  he  cried.  "  Dead  on  the  battlefield.  Ruth's  boy 
and  she  was  a  Friend." 

Lucy's  minister  heard  the  tidings,  for  the  news  went 
like  wildfire  over  the  village,  thai  Captain  Fuller  had 
fallen  at  Antietam,  fighting  valiantly. 

He  went  to  James  Fuller's  home.  "  Bear  up,  my  man, 
he  died  bravely,  they  say." 

"  I  didn't  want  him  to  die,"  exclaimed  James.  "  He 
was  all  that  was  left  me  of  Ruth !  " 

"  We  know,  my  dear  sir,  but  Samuel  would  not  like 
you  to  grieve  like  this.  He  knew  that  his  life  was  liable 
to  be  taken  at  any  time  and  offered  it  gladly  on  the  altar 
of  his  country  and  in  the  cause  of  freedom. 

"  You  have  your  wife  and  three  fine  children.  Your 
son  was  as  noljle  a  young  man  as  ever  drew  sword  in 
liberty's  cause.  Time  after  time  we  have  heard  of  his 
valor.  The  memory  of  such  a  son  is  a  precious  heritage." 

But  James  would  not  be  comforted.    Like  that  sad  day 

31 


482  Love  and  Liberty. 

when  Ruth  was  torn  from  his  loving  arms,  he  raved  in 
his  grief. 

"  I  didn't  wish  him  to  go,"  he  cried,  "  but  he  said  he 
must  go,  and  now  he  is  dead.  Samuel  is  dead.  O  my 
boy !  my  boy!  " 

Lucy  slipped  her  arm  in  his  and  kissed  him.  Johnny 
climbed  upon  his  knee  and  put  those  fat  arms  about  his 
papa's  neck,  saying:  "You  have  me,  papa,  and  I  love 
you,"  and  little  Charlie  cried  out:  "Papa,  I'll  be  your 
Samuel  boy  now." 

There  was  two-years-old  Maud,  with  her  tiny  hand  in 
her  father's  hand,  crying  bitterly,  not  knowing  what  to 
make  of  it  ail.  "  Me  love  'ou,"  she  sobbed. 

When  James  saw  how  selfish  was  his  grief,  with  all 
that  he  had  left,  he  grew  calmer,  kissed  his  wife  and 
children,  and  said :  "  Let  us  pray." 

They  knelt  side  by  side,  and  there  James  Fuller,  with 
wife  and  children  about  him,  confessed  his  weakness  to 
his  God.  He  poured  out  his  soul  in  agonizing  prayer  for 
victory,  strength,  and  submission  to  the  will  of  his 
heavenly  Father. 

Lucy  never  forgot  that  prayer. 

When  they  rose  from  their  knees,  James  said :  ''  The 
will  of  the  Lord  be  done." 

Ere  the  night  closed  in,  there  came  another  telegram 
that  Rachel  had  found  Samuel  on  the  battle-field,  that  he 
was  alive,  but  with  one  leg  amputated  and  two  other  se 
vere  wounds ;  yet  they  fondly  hoped,  fairly  on  the  road 
to  recovery. 

"  God  forgive  me,"  murmured  James,  "  and  bless  my 
first-born  son." 

Slowly  yet  surely  Samuel  gained  in  strength.  1 1  is 
wounds  were  all  serious,  but  with  youthful  vigor  and 
physical  powers  undiminished  by  any  evil  excesses,  his 
constitution  bore  the  terrible  strain  placed  upon  it,  and 
gradually  he  rallied  from  the  shock. 

After  a  little,  he  and  Horace  were  both  removed  to 
the  general  hospital  where  Rachel  and  Marion  had  been 
employed,  and  both  of  the  women  returned  at  the  same 
time. 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  483 

One  day  Samuel  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  and  Rachel 
was  reading  to  him,  when  Lincoln  entered  the  hospital. 

"  Three  times  three  and  a  tiger,"  shouted  one  of  the 
bedridden  soldiers. 

The  hospital  rang  with  the  cheers  of  the  crippled  men. 
The  President  raised  his  hat  and  bowed  at  their  greeting 
and  walked  down  the  room.  He  shook  hands  with  all 
the  doctors  and  nurses  and  every  patient,  giving  them 
kind  words  of  cheer. 

When  he  reached  Samuel's  bed  he  looked  at  him  ear 
nestly,  then  at  Rachel  by  his  side. 

"  I  ha.ve  seen  you  together  before,  my  friends,"  he 
said.  ''  Yes,"  answered  Samuel,  "  at  the  Cooper  Insti 
tute  lecture." 

'  That  is  it,  I  recall  now.  So  you  have  been  fighting 
for  your  country  and  freedom,  captain.  Does  it  pay  ?  " 

"  Akvays,  President  Lincoln,"  was  the  response. 

"Have  you  been  a  nurse  long?"  he  questioned,  turn 
ing  to  Rachel. 

"  More  than  eight  months  now,  Mr.  President,"  an 
swered  the  beautiful  Rachel. 

"  I  give  you  my  blessing  for  future  days  of  happiness, 
young  friends.  May  prosperity  attend  you  always." 

"  Thank  you,  President  Lincoln,"  they  both  replied  as 
he  passed  on. 

Nearly  three  months  had  passed  away  since  that  terri 
ble  September  day. 

Samuel  and  Rachel  were  going  home  for  Christmas. 

The  captain  was  not  yet  strong,  but  with  Rachel  for 
a  nurse,  the  doctor  thought  he  could  stand  the  journey, 
so  homeward  they  went. 

Word  was  sent  to  James,  and  two  days  after  boarding 
the  train,  Samuel  and  Rachel  steamed  into  Seaview. 

A  crowd  of  friends  were  at  the  station  to  greet  them. 
James  and  son  John  G.,  Ned  Jones  and  wife,  the  Princi 
pal  of  the  Academy  with  several  of  the  professors,  and 
best  of  all  to  Rachel  her  own  dear  parents,  all  unex 
pected,  waiting  on  the  platform  to  clasp  her  hand  and 
smother  her  with  kisses. 

What  a  greeting  that  was !    As  Samuel  hobbled  from 


484  Love  and  Liberty. 

the  train,  with  his  crutch,  supported  by  the  fair  Rachel, 
Seavievv  people  recalled  that  beautiful  June  day  at  the 
Academy  commencement,  when  their  hearts  were  thrilled 
by  the  stirring  words  of  patriotism  from  the  lips  of  these 
friends. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Captain  Fuller !  "  shouted  the  Prin 
cipal.  The  crowd  responded  with  a  will. 

James,  first  of  all,  fell  upon  Samuel's  neck  and  kissed 
him,  and  wept  like  a  child,  and  John  G.,  now  more  than 
seven  years  old,  kissed  brother  Samuel  as  he  had  never 
kissed  him  before.  Rachel,  fair  as  ever,  came  in  for  her 
full  share  of  notice  and  honors.  Her  parents  were  over 
joyed  at  her  return. 

"  You  won't  go  back  again,  Rachel,  will  you?"  whis 
pered  Margaret. 

"  No,  dear  mother,  I  must  care  for  Samuel  now,  you 
know,"  and  then  she  blushed. 

"  Kerridge,  Cap'n !  "  said  Judge  Washington,  touching 
his  cap  to  Samuel.  Yes,  the  Judge  had  been  shelved,  and 
was  no  longer  a  policeman,  but  his  friends  had  helped 
him  and  he  had  a  very  respectable  turnout. 

"  Well,  Judge,"  said  Captain  Samuel,  "  do  you  think 
you  can  get  us  home  without  tipping  us  over?  " 

"  Ce'tingly,  sir,  ce'tingly,"  answered  the  Judge. 

After  Samuel  had  greeted  them  all,  he  hobbled  with 
his  crutches  to  the  carriage,  and  the  Judge  helped  him 
in.  Rachel  also  rode  with  him.  Samuel  slipped  a  dollar 
into  the  hand  of  the  Judge. 

"  For  the  sake  of  old  times.  Judge." 

"  Thank  you,  Cap'n,  thank  you  sir !  "  and  the  Judge 
touched  his  cap  again. 

"  I  tell  you,  Cap'n,  the  sperrits  up  to  that  haunted 
house's  been  goin'  it  jest  awful,  sir,  jest  awful  sence 
you've  been  gone,  sir." 

"  Too  bad,  Judge,"  said  the  captain,  almost  convulsed 
with  laughter. 

When  they  reached  James'  home,  there  were  Lucy  and 
little  Maud  to  greet  them. 

Lucy  kissed  the  crippled  captain  till  she  almost  pushed 
him  over  (as  he  had  only  one  leg,  you  know),  and  cried 
over  him  like  a  baby. 


Under  the  Silent  Stars.  485 

While  Maud  shyly  took  hold  of  his  crutch  and  said 
"What's  'at  ting?'"' 

"  That,"  said  the  capta'in,  "  is  an  extra  leg,  I  brought 
home  with  me." 

"  Charles  Sumner,  come  here,  young  man,  and  kiss 
brother  Samuel,"  and  five-years-old  Charlie  needed  no 
second  invitation. 

That  was  the  merriest  dinner  party  you  ever  saw. 

"  We  ought  to  have  Tom  Smith  here,  to  make  fun  for 
us,"  said  Mrs.  Sadie  Jones. 

"  So  long  as  you're  here,  Mistress  Sadie,  we'll  get 
along  very  well,"  answered  Samuel. 

"  None  of  your  impertinence,  Cap'n  Fuller,"  replied 
Sadie. 

"  What's  that  on  your  lip?"  questioned  Charles  Sum 
ner. 

"  That,"  answered  the  captain,  "  is  what  is  called  a 
mustache.  Rachel  says  she  likes  it  very  much,"  and 
Samuel  laughed  merrily. 

"  Why,  Samuel  Fuller,"  spoke  up  Rachel,  with  scar 
let  face.  "  You  shouldn't  tell  secrets." 

"  No  secret  about  that,  my  dear,"  said  Samuel.  "  I  de 
clare,  Rachel,  it's  good  to  see  your  father  and  mother 
here  with  us,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is,  '  came  the  answer. 

After  dinner  Willard  and  Margaret  with  Rachel 
started  for  Glentown. 

"  You're  all  to  be  here  at  Christmas,"  said  Mistress 
Lucy.  So  it  was  agreed.  Samuel  told  Rachel  as  he 
kissed  her  good-by  that  Lucy  could  cook  a  turkey  to  beat 
anything  in  Glentown.  "  Why,  Samuel  Fuller,"  ex 
claimed  fair  Rachel  archly,  "  have  you  forgotten  that 
Christmas  you  spent  at  my  home?" 

James  said  to  Samuel  that  evening,  "  I  am  the  happi 
est  man  in  the  world,  my  boy."  He  told  him  of  his  ter 
rible  struggle  caused  through  Jimmie's  first  telegram, 
and  of  the  final  victory  over  himself. 

"  At  last,  -my  boy,  you  are  home  from  the  terrible  war, 
and  you  can't  go  any  more,  for  they  won't  take  a  man 
with  one  leg." 

"  Yes,  home  for  all  the  time,"  answered  Samuel,  but 
he  sighed, 


486  Love  and  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  LXXII. 

FREEDOM    AT    LAST. 

THE  week  of  the  battle  at  Antietam,  President  Lin 
coln  spent  part  of  the  time  at  his  summer  house  at  the 
Soldiers'  Home. 

Congressman  Noble  was  him  making  a  brief  visit. 
The  news  came  \Yednesday  that  the  advantage  of  the 
battle  was  on  the  Union  side. 

"  Noble,  I'll  wait  no  longer,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  made 
a  solemn  von1  before  God,  that  if  General  Lee  was  driven 
back  from  Maryland,  I  would  crown  the  result  by  the 
freedom  of  the  slaves." 

"Freedom  at  last!"  cried  Noble,  and  the  tears  ran 
down  his  face. 

The  immortal  document  was  issued  September  22, 
and  the  Proclamation  of  Emancipation  gave  freedom  to 
four  million  bondmen,  a  race  which  for  two  and  a  half 
centuries  had  been  oppressed  in  the  land  which  claimed 
to  be  the  land  of  freedom. 

It  stated  that  on  the  first  day  of  January,  1863,  all 
persons  held  as  slaves  within  any  state,  then  in  rebellion 
against  the  United  States,  should  be  then,  henceforward 
and  forever  free!  and  that  the  Executive  Government 
of  the  United  States,  including  the  military  and  naval 
authority  thereof,  would  recognize  and  maintain  the 
freedom  of  such  nersons. 

The  day  arrived  and  the  Proclamation  went  into  effect. 

It  was  republished.  concluding  with  the  following 
words:  "And  upon  this,  sincerely  believed  to  be  an  act 
of  justice,  warranted  by  the  Constitution  upon  military 
necessity,  I  invoke  the  considerate  judgment  of  mankind, 
and  the  gracious  favor  of  Almighty  God." 

The  day  that  gave  freedom  to  the  slaves,  Margaret 
Aldrich  said ; 


Freedom  at  Last.  487 

"  Willard,  that  Proclamation  will  make  President  Lin 
coln  immortal." 

Frank  Noble  was  home  for  the  holidays  and  calling 
upon  Aldrich  when  Margaret  thus  spoke. 

"  He  has  written  with  an  iron  pen,"  said  Willard. 

And  Noble  added,  "  It  will  forever  stand  as  the  great 
Magna  Charta  of  human  rights,  blazing  Lincoln's  name 
around  the  world.'' 

"  Speaker  Colfax  said  to  me  before  I  left  Washing 
ton,"  continued  Noble,  "  that  when  other  events  shall 
have  been  forgotten ;  when  this  world  shall  have 
becon^  a  network  of  republics;  when  every  throne 
shall  be  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  v  hen  literature 
shall  enlighten  all  minds ;  when  the  claims  of  humanity 
shall  be  recognized  everywhere,  this  act  of  Emancipation 
shall  be  conspicuous  on  the  pages  of  history." 

"  It  is  the  central  act  of  Lincoln's  administration,  and 
the  greatest  event  of  the  nineteenth  century,"  responded 
Willard. 

And  Rachel,  with  arms  about  her  mother  recited  in 
her  charming  voice : 

"  Oppression  shall  not  always  reign, 

There  comes  a  brighter  day, 
When  Freedom,  burst  from  every  chain, 

Shall  have  triumphant  way  ; 
The  right  shall  over  might  prevail, 
And  truth,  like  hero  armed  in  mail, 
The  hosts  of  tyrant  long  assail 

And  hold  eternal  sway  !  " 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  her  mother,  "  and  you,  my  daughter, 
have  done  your  part  to  bring  in  that  glad  day." 

The  civilized  world  had  been  watching  the  outcome  of 
this  terrible  struggle  with  intense  interest.  All  lovers  of 
freedom  in  every  land  prayed  for  the  President  and  the 
Union  armies.  They  had  been  hoping  sometimes  almost 
ara.inst  hope,  that  this  war  would  secure  the  freedom  of 
the  slaves,  and  that  the  establishment  of  liberty  in  Amer 
ica  would  mean  liberty  for  all  the  world. 

Now  that  freedom  had  been  proclaimed,  the  World's 
Great  Charioteer  took  hold  of  the  lines.  He  had  been 
waiting  for  the  edict  of  freedom,  ere  he  placed  his  seal 


Love  and  Liberty. 

on  the  Union  cause.  The  viper  must  first  be  destroyed 
before  success  could  come. 

There  was  another  dreadful  night  in  the  White  House 
after  Chancellorsville,  when  Lincoln  promised  God  if 
He  would  give  him  success  at  Gettysburg  and  Vi'cksburg, 
he  would  give  to  Him  ever  after  the  devotion  of  his  heart 
and  the  service  of  his  life.  The  success  came  and  the 
promise  was  kept. 

The  silent  iron-billed  General  Grant  began  to  marshal 
his  battalions  for  coming  victory.  Farragut,  lashed  to 
the  rigging  of  his  ship  during  the  bloody  conflict,  went 
into  Mobile  bay.  Sherman  swung  round  by  way  of  the 
sea.  Sheridan  was  riding  (he  was  always  riding),  rid 
ing  towards  Appomato.v.  God,  the  everlasting  Jehovah, 
was  behind  them  all ! 

What  could  Joe  Johnson  do,  except  lay  down  his 
arms?  What  could  Lee,  the  brave  aggressor,  do  except 
surrender  ? 

With  that  immortal  triumvirate  of  generals,  and  half 
a  million  veterans,  and  the  Eternal  One  pushing  them 
forward,  the  rebels  became  like  grasshoppers. 

Aha!  aha!  The  Charioteer  is  driving!  On,  on  to 
Richmond !  On,  on,  en  to  Appomattox!  Hear  the  thun 
derous  roll  of  the  King's  chariot  wheels!  He's  there! 
Hurrah!  The  day  is  won!  The  Charioteer  is  the  God 
of  battles!  who  t cachet h  the  hands  to  war  and  the  fingers 
to  fight!" 

One  day  Frank  Xoble  said  to  Aldrich,  "  I  want  you 
to  go  with  me  to  the  dedication  of  the  National  ceme 
tery  at  Gettysburg." 

"  I'll  go,"  said  Willard. 

Lincoln  had  come  from  the  task  of  saving  the  country 
to  say  a  few  words  on  that  sacred  spot. 

"  In  a  larger  sense,"  he  said,  "  we  cannot  dedicate,  we 
cannot  consecrate,  we  cannot  hallow  this  ground.  The 
brave  men  living  and  dead,  who  struggled  here,  have 
consecrated  it  far  above  our  poor  power  to  add  or  de 
tract.  The  world  will  little  note,  nor  long  remember 
what  we  say  here,  but  it  can  never  forget  what  they  did 
here.  It  is  for  us,  the  living,  rather  to  be  here  dedicated 


Freedom  at  Last.  489 

to  the  unfinished  work  which  they  who  fought  here 
have  thus  far  so  nobly  advanced. 

"  It  is  for  us  to  be  here  dedicated  to  the  great  task 
remaining  before  us;  that  from  these  honored  dead 
we  take  increased  devotion  to  that  cause  for  which  they 
gave  the  last  full  measure  of  devotion ;  that  we  here 
highly  resolve,  that  these  dead  shall  not  have  died  in 
vain ;  that  this  nation  under  God  shall  have  a  new  birth 
of  freedom ;  and  that  government  of  the  people,  by  the 
people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth." 

Noble  looked  into  the  face  of  Lincoln  as  he  spoke 
those  words. 

"  Aldrich,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  Lin 
coln's  features  are  illuminated  with  the  glory  of  coming 
martyrdom." 

Aldrich  answered,  "It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  such  a  re 
sult,"  then  quoted, 

"  The  kindly-earnest,  brave,  foreseeing  man, 
Sagacious,  patient,  dreading  praise,  not  blame, 
New  birth  of  our  new  soil,  the  first  American." 

And  Noble  added,  "  There  are  stripes  of  very  deep  red 
in  the  American  flag !  " 

When  Lincoln  was  inaugurated  the  second  time,  many 
of  the  friends  whom  wre  have  met  in  this  book  were 
present. 

"  Malice  toward  none  and  charity  for  all,"  rang  out 
the  words  from  the  great  chieftain's  lips. 

"  Noble,  Noble,"  cried  Aldrich  to  his  friend,  "  that 
sounds  like  the  cry  of  the  Christ  on  the  cross." 

"  So  it  does,"  answered  Noble. 

Then  came  that  dreadful  night  after  the  joy-beils  of 
victory  had  been  ringing  across  the  continent,  when  the 
nation  was  suddenly  plunged  into  the  deepest  gloom. 

The  assassin,  whom  Horace  Fuller  had  years  before 
observed  pompously  parading  around  John  Brown's 
scaffold,  with  deadly  hand,  fired  the  fatal  shot  which 
deprived  the  nation  of  its  honored  Chief,  the  world  of 
its  greatest  Ruler,  and  gave  to  Lincoln  the  martyr's 
crown. 


49o  Love  and  Liberty. 

The  dull,  heavy  agony  of  the  nation's  grief  will  be 
long  remembered. 

'  They've  shot  him !  "  exclaimed  James  Fuller,  rush 
ing  into  the  house,  "  President  Lincoln  is  assassinated. 
It  is  terrible,  terrible !  The  world  is  out  of  joint. 
Why  could  he  not  have  been  spared  to  guide  the  nation 
to  a  new  life  and  career?  "  and  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  President  Lincoln  shot  ?  "  answered  Lucy.  "  Will 
the  war  never  end?" 

Willard  and  Margaret  heard  the  news  with  sorrow 
ing  hearts. 

'  They've  killed  their  best  friend,"  said  Margaret. 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  \Villard,  and  Congressman  Noble 
told  his  friend  that  when  he  heard  the  tidings  he  cried 
like  a  baby. 

The  terrible  storm  of  war  had  brought  forth  a  fearful 
harvest. 

The  President  was  dead  and  the  people  mourned.  The 
outburst  of  sorrow  found  some  vent  in  the  great  funeral 
pageant,  with  all  the  honors  a  nation  could  bestow, 
which  followed  him  through  the  great  cities  of  the  land, 
to  the  last  resting-place  at  Springfield,  Illinois.  The 
churches  were  draped  in  mourning;  the  loyal  orators 
and  ministers  paid  worthy  tributes  to  the  great  man's 
memory,  and  the  little  children  cried  in  the  streets. 

The  triumphant  joy  which  had  come  to  the  heart  of 
the  North  went  out  in  tears  at  the  cruel  hand  of  the 
assassin,  and  even  men  who  had  fought  against  him  in 
the  South  wept  at  his  death. 

"  Samuel,"  said  James  to  his  son,  "  Lincoln  was  the 
friend  of  every  American,  and  none  of  us  will  ever  know 
a  more  unselfish,  truer  or  grander  man  than  our  mar 
tyred  President,  who  gave  freedom  to  an  enslaved  race." 

"  You  speak  the  truth,  father,"  responded  Samuel. 

"  My  Captain  does  not  answer,  his  lips  are  pale  and  still. 
My  father  does  not  feel  mv  arm,  he  has  no  pulse  nor  will ; 
But  the  J///A  the  s/iif>  is  anchored  safe,  its  voyage  closed  and  done. 
From  fearful  trip,  the  victor  ship,  comes  in  with  object  won. 
Exult,  O  shores,  and  rinp,  O  bells  ! 

P.ut  T,  with  silent  tread, 
Walk  the  spot  my  Captain  lies 
Fallen  cold  and  dead  !  " 


Marriage  Bells.  491 


CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

MARRIAGE  BELLS. 

THE  Christmas  party  at  James  Fuller's  was  a  great 
success. 

Willard,  Margaret  and  Rachel,  with  young  Martin, 
were  all  there.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ned  Jones  came  as  a 
matter  of  course.  These,  with  James  and  family,  made  a 
full  house,  but  there  was  a  girl  in  the  kitchen,  and  Mrs. 
Jones  whenever  present  always  assisted  at  Lucy's  home 
with  right  good  will. 

The  turkey  was  at  least  equal  to  Margaret's,  which  was 
all  that  Rachel  would  allow. 

The  day  was  one  of  those  never-to-be-forgotten  happy 
days  which  come  only  a  few  times  in  one's  life. 

At  its  close,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  went  home,  but  the 
rest  would  remain  all  night. 

There  were  important  matters  for  Samuel  and  Rachel 
to  discuss.  Captain  Fuller  was  daily  improving  under 
congenial  surroundings  and  good  home  tare.  Ajready 
he  had  received  an  invitation  to  contribute  a  series  of 
articles  in  a  prominent  magazine,  on  war  matters,  at 
generous  recompense,  which  he  had  accepted.  He  would 
take  up  authorship  as  a  profession.  His  record  in  the 
army,  spoken  of  in  the  highest  terms  by  his  superiors, 
gave  him  great  vantage  ground  in  seeking  employment 
at  his  loved  work. 

He  was  yet  on  a  furlough,  but  would  soon  be  honor 
ably  discharged,  and  secure  a  pension  for  the  loss  of  his 
limb.  His  wound  was  nearly  healed,  and  a  "  make- 
believe  leg,"  as  John  Ca.diner  called  it,  was  a'rcady  or 
dered. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Rachel,  you  must  set  the  day." 

"  Not  this  winter,  my  love,  but  in  the  month  of  April 
on  your  birthday." 


492  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Must  I  wait  so  long?"  inquired  Samuel. 

"  Why,  Samuel  Fuller,  you  will  be  only  twenty-three 
years  old  that  day,  and  I'm  a  year  younger.  Mother 
needs  me  at  home  this  winter,  and  I  owe  her  something' 
after  all  that  she  has  done  for  me.  I've  been  away  from 
her  a  good  deal ;  besides  i  must  get  ready  for  the  great 
occasion,  and  our  new  home." 

So  Samuel  must  needs  be  content.  He  knew  Rachel 
was  right  about  the  matter,  but  he  loved  her  so  dearly 
that  he  wished  her  ever  near  him.  They  had  several 
days  together  at  this  time,  and  met  several  times  during 
the  winter,  and  what  days  of  joy  they  were!  Meanwhile, 
he  devoted  himself  to  the  pen,  and  turned  out  some  very 
creditable  work  for  a  young  fellow. 


"  In  April  was  our  wedding  day, 

The  maiden  month,  you  know, 
Of  tears  and  smiles,  and  wilful  wiles. 
And  flowers  that  spring  from  snow." 

It  was  a  beautiful  spring  day  in  old  Glentown.  The 
town  was  all  astir,  for  this  was  the  wedding  day  of  their 
Rachel.  She  had  been  much  away  from  them  these 
last  few  years,  but  they  loved  her  just  the  same. 
Her  kind  deeds  from  childhood  had  been  remembered, 
her  loyal  service  in  providing  garments  for  the  soldiers, 
her  sacrificing  spirit  and  devoted  labors  for  nearly  a 
year  in  hospital  work  at  the  South,  caring  tenderly  for 
the  brave  men  under  her,  awoke  the  deepest  interest  and 
most  generous  feelings  toward  the  fair,  young  woman. 
Added  to  this,  her  beauty  (for  all  except  the  jealous 
women  acknowledged  that  she  was  beautiful)  and  the 
fact  that  she  was  to  marry  the  brave  Captain  Fuller, 
who  had  lost  his  leg  in  the  war.  increased  the  interest. 
Besides,  the  Aldrich  family  in  those  days  was  among 
the  best  class  in  town,  yet  so  democratic  and  familiar 
with  the  people,  that  rerrly  every  or."  liked  them.  The 
story  of  Rachel's  rescue  of  the  Captain  on  Antictam 
battle-fieid  had  been  told  far  and  near,  and  even  now, 
Wendell,  scarcely  eighteen  years  old.  was  at  the  front, 
where  for  nearly  two  years  he  had  braved  many  dangers 


Marriage  Bells.  493 

for  the  country  and  the  flag".  These  facts  did  not  lessen 
interest  in  the  fair  maiden's  marriage. 

The  old  home  church  was  finely  decorated  for  this  im 
portant  occasion.  Flower  girls  and  bridesmaids  were  all 
provided.  Samuel's  friend,  Jimmie  Smith,  was  still  at 
war,  and  could  not  well  be  released,  though  Samuel  had 
asked  him  to  be  his  best  man.  Jimmie  sent  his  best 
wishes  and  a  generous  sum  of  money  for  a  present  in 
stead. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  Samuel  asked  Rachel.  "  I  have 
very  few  intimate  young  men  friends." 

"  If  you  are  willing,  I  would  like  to  have  you  ask 
Chester  Nye,"  wrote  Rachel.  "  He  is  a  brave  fellow  and 
has  an  empty  sleeve ;  he  formerly  liked  me  but  is  now 
enamored  with  Grace  Brown,  whom  I  have  asked  to  be 
one  of  the  bridesmaids.  You  have  met  Chester,  you 
recollect,  and  he  would  be  greatly  pleased." 

Samuel  invited  Chester,  and  the  true-hearted  fellow 
was  overjoyed. 

Florence  Noble  had  consented  to  be  maid  of  honor, 
much  to  Clifford's  disgust.  Edith  Snow  came  all  the 
way  from  New  York  to  serve  as  a  bridesmaid  with 
Grace  Brown. 

The  early  train  brought  Samuel  from  Seaview. 

"  My !  "  whispered  Grace  Brown  to  Edith,  "  isn't  he 
fine  looking?  " 

"  Very,"  responded  Edith  with  just  a  little  sigh. 

Samuel  was  looking  well ;  he  had  grown  stouter  the 
past  winter ;  his  heavy  mustache  added  greatly  to  his 
dignity.  His  "  make  believe  leg  "  he  managed  very  well 
though  he  carried  a  cane  now,  a  practice  that  Clifford 
had  abandoned.  His  fine  new  suit  set  off  his  well- 
proportioned  figure  to  good  advantage.  It  is  true  that 
there  was  a  scar  on  his  neck  which  could  be  seen  if  one 
looked  closely,  but  he  told  Rachel  a  full  beard  would  hide 
it. 

"  You'll  not  wear  a  full  beard  for  one  while,"  said 
Miss  Rachel,  saucily ;  "  remember  that  scar  is  an  honor 
able  one,  sir." 

The  guests  were  gathering.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ned  Jones 
came  with  Samuel  and  his  parents.  The  Nobles,  and  the 


494  Love  and  Liberty. 

Lyons  family  were  all  invited.  Horace  and  Marion  at 
the  front  received  invitations  hut  could  not  come.  Tom 
Smith  and  Sue  and  the  cousins  from  the  Grover  home 
stead  were  there  by  request  of  Samuel.  Pat  Quinn 
received  an  invitation.  "  Och,  be  jabers,  it's  meself 
that'll  be  there  with  me  wife,"  said  Pat.  Sure  enough, 
there  he  was.  Tim  was  still  in  the  army. 

Rachel  sought  to  neglect  no  one  who  would  feel 
slighted,  but  of  course  the  church  could  not  hold  all  the 
people  of  Glentown. 

Representative  Aldrich  provided  elaborately  for  his 
only  daughter's  marriage.  In  some  respects  it  was  a 
sad  day  to  him  and  Margaret,  but  they  comforted  them 
selves  by  thinking  that  Seaview,  where  Rachel  would 
live,  was  not  very  far  away,  and  they  would  see  her 
often.  Sairn  el  had  hired  a  good  house  on  the  hill  near 
Ned  Jones'  residence,  and  Willard  had  furnished  it  finely 
at  his  own  expense. 


The  church  bell  is  ringing  out  its  merry  wedding 
chimes.  The  carriages  are  at  the  Aldrich  mansion. 
There  come  Samuel  and  Rachel,  the  bride  beautifully 
dressed  in  satin,  laces,  ribbons  and  pearls,  with  roses 
at  her  breast,  Samuel  proud  and  happy ;  Chester  with 
his  empty  sleeve,  and  three  bridesmaids.  There  are  the 
little  Mower  girls  with  their  pretty  white  dresses  and 
baskets  of  flowers. 

The  horses  are  prancing,  the  carriages  begin  to  move. 

Ring  out,  ye  merry  bells  !     'Tis  Rachel's  wedding-day  ! 

Crowds  line  the  street,  bowing  and  smiling.  The 
bridal  party  reach  the  church,  where  they  gaze  in  sur 
prise.  The  townspeople  have  raised  a  decorated  arch  in 
front,  inscribed  :  "  Our  Glentown  Queen."  The  walk  from 
the  street  to  the  church  is  covered  with  evergreen  and 
on  either  side  stand  boys  and  girls  dressed  in  their  best 
clothes,  waving  handkerchiefs  and  singing  a  bridal  song 
as  the  party  pass  up  the  soft  green  carpet  to  the  church 
door,  the  tears  in  Rachel's  eyes. 

"  Here  they  come,"  whisper  the  people  in  the  church. 
They  pass  slowly  up  the  aisle  to  the  music  of  a  wedding 


Marriage  Bells.  495 

march,  arrange  themselves  for  the  service,  and  Rachel's 
pastor  proceeds  with  the  ceremony.  lie  is  an  elderly 
man  with  white  hair.  Many  years  has  he  known  this 
beautiful  girl,  now  a  happy  bride. 

"  I  pronounce  that  you  are  husband  and  wife  together, 
in  the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of  the  Holy- 
Ghost.  Those  whom  God  hath  joined  together,  let  no 
man  put  asunder." 

He  offers  the  customary  prayer,  but  his  voice  breaks. 
He  is  thinking  of  that  day  when  his  daughter  lay  dying, 
and  Rachel  came  ana  ministered  to  her  till  the  pure  white 
spirit  fled,  then  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  cried. 
"  I  will  be  a  daughter  to  you  now,  good  pastor." 

"  Let  Thy  favor,  O  Father,  mercifully  rest  upon  this 
husband  and  wife  whom  \ve  now  bless  in  Thy  name,  and 
grant  them  many  prosperous  years  of  wedded  happiness. 
Amen." 

The  organ  pealed  out  its  grand  sweet  symphonies,  as 
the  bridal  party  and  guests  departed. 

As  Samuel  and  Rachel  reached  the  door,  a  very  unus 
ual  thing  took  place.  A  voice  called  out :  '  Three 
cheers  for  Captain  Fuller  and  his  beautiful  bride !  " 
They  were  given  with  a  will,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  town  joined  in  the  applause. 

"  By  gum,"  said  Tom  Smith,  "  that  beats  anything  I 
ever  heard  of!"  And  Pat  Quinn  said:  "The  Holy 
Yargin,  but  Miss  Rachel  desarves  it  all,  begorry,  for  it's 
meself  that  niver  saw  her  equal  afore." 

Then  followed  the  reception  with  refreshments  and 
wedding-cake.  The  merry  young  gentlemen  and  ladies 
vied  with  each  other  in  honoring  the  "  Glentown  Queen," 
and  had  a  royal  good  time. 

Samuel  said  Rachel  was  the  queen  of  all  hearts,  and  his 
heart  in  particular.  Clifford  Noble,  however,  the  rising 
young  manufacturer,  appeared  much  cast  down,  though 
when  he  had  a  chance  to  talk  with  Edith  Snow,  he  be 
came  quite  cheerful. 

At  length  the  carriage  was  at  the  door  to  take  them  to 
the  station  for  the  wedding  tour.  Old  shoes  and  rice 
were  much  in  evidence  as  good-byes  from  guests  and 
friends  were  given  the  blushing  bride. 


4Q6  Love  and  Liberty. 

"  Good  luck,  good-by,  long  life  and  prosperous  days," 
rang"  in  their  ears  as  the  carriage  rolled  away. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  train,  Samuel  said : 
"  At  last,  my  Rachel,  you  are  my  own  sweet  bride,  and 
now  my  cup  of  happiness  is  full,"  and  pressed  the  hand 
of  his  charming  wife. 

"  Samuel,''  replied  Rachel,  "  I  am  yours  always,  ever 
more.  God  grant  us  power  to  make  the  world  a  little 
better,  and  still  further  advance  the  cause  of  liberty." 

She  looked  into  the  blue  eyes  of  her  husband  and  the 
train  sped  on. 


Later  Years.  497 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

LATER    YEARS. 

MANY  years  have  passed  away  since  Samuel  and  Ra 
chel  were  married. 

The  Abolitionists,  though  slow  to  acknowledge  Presi 
dent  Lincoln's  good  judgment  in  the  great  Proclama 
tion,  afterwards  claimed  that  all  they  demanded  had  been 
secured.  The  thirteenth,  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  amend 
ments  to  the  Constitution,  giving  universal  freedom  and 
citizenship  to  the  colored  race,  completed  the  work  of 
Emancipation.  . 

James  and  Samuel  were  very  happy  in  Seaview.  They 
talked  over  the  Abolition  days,  recalling  the  names  of 
those  mighty  forerunners  of  a  new  dispensation. 

"  We  never  have  given  full  credit  to  the  women  work 
ers  in  the  great  movement,"  said  James  one  day. 

"  That  may  be  so,"  said  Samuel. 

James  continued :  "  Esther  Moore,  Abigail  Goodwin 
and  heroic  Frances  Harper  have  grandly  aided  the  cause 
of  freedom.  Then  the  Grimkie  sisters,  and  perhaps  best 
of  all,  Lucretia  Mott,  who,  all  things  considered,  was  one 
of  the  noblest  representatives  of  ideal  womanhood  I  have 
ever  known." 

'  They  surely  have  been  heroic,"  answered  Samuel. 
"  So  were  those  noble  men  Thomas  Garrett  and  Daniel 
Gibbons,  who  aided  so  many  slaves  to  escape  to  free 
dom." 

"  Yes,"  replied  James,  "  the  past  days  have  been  full 
of  heroic  service  for  liberty,  and  now  that  liberty  has 
come,  we'll  need  much  wisdom  and  faith  to  steer  the  ship 
of  state  through  the  troublous  waters  which  will  surely 
appear." 

.  *.  «>.  ft  .*  • 

32 


Love  and  Libert}'. 

The  older  generation  of  friends  whom  we  have  met 
in  this  history  have  nearly  all  passed  away. 

After  the  war,  Captain  Thomas  Gardiner  came  for 
Marion,  according  to  promise.  They  were  quietly  mar 
ried,  and  went  to  Seaview,  the  Captain's  boyhood  home, 
where  people  discovered  that  Thomas  was  Lucy's  long- 
lost  brother,  returned  with  Marion  for  his  wife,  and 
plenty  of  money.  He  gave  Lucy  and  his  other  relatives 
generous  presents,  and  bought  him  a  fine  house  at  Sea- 
view.  Thus  Marion,  beautiful,  erring  and  sinful,  saved 
through  the  kindness  of  Ada  and  her  parents,  now  re 
stored  to  a  noble  womanhood,  anchored  safely  in  quiet 
waters.  It  was  very  interesting  to  see  her  walking  the 
street  with  Master  Tom  Gardiner,  her  own  boy  and  the 
Captain's  heir  by  her  side.  The  lad  inherited  his  mother's 
beauty  and  is  to-day  one  of  the  most  important  men  of 
his  native  town. 

Lawrence  Lyons,  on  the  death  of  his  adopted  parents, 
came  into  posession  of  much  wealth,  liberally  educated 
himself,  and  traveled  in  nearly  every  land.  He  has 
strong  traits  of  character  and  is  a  useful  man  in  many 
ways,  doing  much  good  with  his  wealth,  which  accumu 
lates  rapidly  under  his  careful  management ;  yet  Marion, 
whom  he  often  visits,  is  grieved  at  the  lack  of  moral 
power  which  is  revealed  to  her  in  his  character. 

"  Alas !  "  she  cried  to  herself  one  day,  "  there  are  some 
things  that  can  never  be  remedied,  and  some  wrongs 
which  can  never  be  undone." 

Col.  Horace  Fuller  recovered  from  his  wounds,  went 
through  the  war,  married  Florence  Noble,  with  whom 
he  had  corresponded  for  some  time,  and  became  editor 
of  an  important  daily  in  Philadelphia.  His  parents  and 
Ada  are  lying  in  the  country  burying  ground  among  the 
shadows  of  the  great  mountains.  Two  of  his  brothers 
sleep  the  long  sleep  on  Southern  battle-fields ;  Gerald  and 
the  other  brother  returned  from  the  war  in  safety  and 
cared  for  their  parents  and  Ada  till  they  passed  away. 

In  Glentown,  there  are  many  changes,  and  a  new  gen 
eration  has  come  to  the  front  to  whom  the  Abolition 
movement  and  war  days  are  only  matters  of  history. 

Willard  Aldrich  and  Frank  Xoble,  after  valiant  service 


Later  Years.  499 

in  legislative  halls,  and  as  prominent  citizens  of  the 
Commonwealth,  have  departed  in  faith  with  their  eyes  on 
an  eternal  crown. 

Margaret,  aged,  with  silvery  hair,  lives  with  Wendell 
and  his  wife.  Wendell  succeeded,  with  Chester  Nye,  to 
Wijlard's  business.  Margaret  is  looking  expectantly 
forward  to  the  meeting  of  her  husband  on  the  other  shore. 

Clifford  Noble  allowed  Edith  Snow  to  console  him  for 
Rachel's  loss,  and  Edith  makes  him  quite  as  good  a  wife 
as  he  deserves ;  for  he  has  developed  some  of  the  worst 
tiaits  of  his  mother's  disposition,  who,  by  the  way,  still 
lingers  on  the  shores  of  time,  Edith  is  quite  sure  in 
order  to  make  her  life  miserable. 

When  the  draft  of  the  war  came,  Clifford  hired  a  sub 
stitute  and  continued  to  stay  at  home. 

Chester's  new  house  built  for  Rachel,  soon  after  the 
latter's  marriage,  was  occupied  by  him  with  Grace 
Brown,  who,  as  Rachel  had  told  him,  was  an  excellent 
housekeeper. 

The  Slocums  of  Ashton  and  Smiths  of  Wilksville  are 
still  on  the  old  homesteads,  at  least  the  younger  genera 
tion  are. 

When  Sergeant  Jimmie  returned  from  fighting  the 
Southerners,  he  selected  a  sensible  girl  for  his  wife. 

"  By  gum,  Jimmie,"  said  Tom,  "  you've  done  well,  sir, 
to  get  that  girl ;  she's  the  likeliest  lass  in  Wilksville." 
And  so  she  was,  but  Sergeant  Smith  was  a  likely  fellow, 
and  deserved  her. 

Samuel  became  a  prominent  author,  and  his  books  are  in 
great  demand.  He  loves  to  sit  at  his  desk  and  grind  out 
tales  which  stir  the  blood  to  heroic  deeds,  and  move  men's 
souls  to  higher  aspirations  and  noblest  living. 

The  town  is  proud  of  him,  and  he  has  held  all  the 
offices  for  which  he  cared.  He  can  speak  as  well  as  write 
and  has  the  gift  of  eloquence.  There  is  no  noble  cause 
in  which  his  voice  has  not  been  heard,  or  pen  been  used. 
He  has  served  two  terms  in  Congress,  where  in  recon 
struction  times,  he  spoke  with  power  in  the  interests  of 
the  black  man's  rights,  and  as  in  Academy  days,  the  stu 
dents  broke  into  applause  at  his  oratorical  gifts,  so  then 
the  halls  of  Congress  rang  with  cheers  as  he  pleaded  for 


5oo  Love  and  Liberty. 

liberty  and  justice.  If  you  will  believe  it,  he  has  grown 
stout  and  his  hair  is  turning  gray,  but  his  merry  blue  eyes 
twinkle  as  saucily  as  ever. 

Rachel!  yes,  Rachel  the  fair!  Yonder  she  is,  a  hand 
some  matron,  eyes  dark  and  bright  as  ever,  and  face  filled 
with  kindness  and  love.  You  would  not  think  it  unless 
you  stop  to  count  the  years,  but  that  is  her  grandchild  she 
has  in  her  lap,  caressing  and  fondling  with  kisses.  She 
has  been  to  Samuel  all  that  he  couM  ask  or  wish.  Her 
cheerful  ways  have  helped  him  in  those  hours  of  gloom, 
which  sometimes,  in  spite  of  all  his  courage,  take  posses 
sion  of  his  soul.  They  are  partly  inherited  and  partly 
the  result  of  that  terrible  day  and  night  on  Antietam 
battle-field.  Rachel  Fuller  is  indeed  a  helpmeet.  Five 
children  have  blessed  their  home,  and  one,  a  daughter, 
before  the  stain  of  evil  had  touched  her  pure  white  spirit, 
took  wings  and  flew  away.  Samuel  and  Rachel  stood 
amazed  and  heart-broken  at  the  open  grave.  Rachel  the 
stronger  of  the  two.  "  Only  two  brief  years  of  life," 
cried  Samuel,  the  sobs  choking  his  voice.  "  Rather  it  is 
life  forever,"  answered  Rachel.  "  We  l.avc  now  an 
added  treasure  in  the  better  land ;  we'll  see  our  child 
again." 

Lucy  still  survives  with  her  four  children  (for  there 
came  another  boy)  all  grown  to  adult  age.  with  happy 
homes  of  their  own.  Her  hair  is  white  as  snow.  Her 
spectacles  bother  her  a  good  deal,  while  wrinkles  have 
come  in  her  strong,  sensible  face,  and  her  hand  trembles. 
You  would  not  know  her  now  for  the  Lucy  whom  James 
Fuller  wedded  so  many  long  years  ago ;  but  there  beats 
no  trurer,  more  loving  heart  this  side  the  gates  of  pearl. 

James  has  entered  into  rest.  He  lived  to  see  his  grand 
children  and  held  them  on  his  knee.  John  Gardiner  and 
young  Henry  became  business  men,  but  Charles  Sumner 
fulfilled  his  father's  prophccv,  and  became  a  great  orator. 

"  Maud  is  the  flower  of  the  family,"  said  James,  and 
sc  it  proved  (being  the  only  girl,  you  know). 

When  Ruth  Grover,  Samuel's  first-born  child,  was  six 
teen,  James  took  her  to  the  Grover  homestead  and  all  the 
sacred  places  of  his  youthful  days,  visiting  his  wife's 
grave. 


Later  Years.  501 

"  Ruth  Grover,  wife  of  James  Fuller,"  read  Ruth. 
"  My  name  exactly,  grandpa,"  she  said. 

"  You  look  enough  like  her  to  be  her  own  child,  my 
daughter,"  said  James.  Then  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,  grandpa,"  said  Ruth,  "  you  have  many 
dear  ones  now,  and  a  happy  home." 

;'  True,  true,  my  child,"  he  answered ;  "  I  am  a  weak 
man,  Ruth,  a  very  weak  man ;  God  forgive  me."  After 
they  returned  to  Seaview,  he  asked  Samuel  about  the 
book  of  poems  and  the  rose  leaves. 

Rachel  produced  them  from  the  sacred  hiding  place, 
and  James  holding  carefully  the  little  book,  and  opening 
the  envelope  containing  the  scented  rose-dust,  told  young 
Ruth  the  story  of  his  life. 

Then  Rachel  took  them  at  his  request,  (he  kissed  them 
as  he  returned  them)  and  placed  them  again  in  the  little 
box. 

After  this  James  began  to  fail.  He  had  to  give  up 
work.  He  did  not  appear  to  have  any  particular  malady, 
but  he  was  an  old  man,  and  his  days  were  numbered. 
Lucy  ministered  to  all  his  needs. 

"  He  has  been  a  good  faithful  husband  to  me,"  she 
said. 

At  length  he  took  to  his  bed,  where  he  lay  in  a  weak 
condition  for  many  days. 

"  I've  had  a  checkered  life,"  he  said.  "  I've  often 
prayed  that  God  would  make  my  last  days  my  best  days, 
and  He  has  answered  my  prayers." 

One  night  he  grew  worse.  Lucy  and  Samuel  were 
both  with  him. 

"  There  she  is  !  "  he  said ;  "  don't  you  see  her?  " 

"  His  mind  is  wandering,"  said  Samuel. 

He  rallied,  however,  asked  to  be  raised  on  his  pillow, 
and  faintly  sang  a  verse  of  "  How  firm  a  foundation,  ye 
saints  of  the  Lord."  The  last  few  days  he  had  frequently 
sung  snatches  of  old-time  hymns  and  songs.  He  lay 
quiet  again.  They  thought  he  was  sleeping. 

"  There  she  is  again ;  don't  you  see  her  ?  "  he  whis 
pered. 

Lucy  pressed  his  hand.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
at  her. 


502 


Love  and  Liberty. 


"  You've  been  a  good  wife  to  me,  Lucy.  God  bless  you 
and  all  the  children,"  he  said  faintly. 

Then  he  saw  Samuel.    "  Good-by,  my  boy !   Kiss  me !  " 

Samuel  kissed  the  dear  old  face,  tears  running  down 
his  cheeks. 

His  father  opened  his  eyes  once  more  and  gazed 
straight  before  him. 

"Music,  beautiful  music.  There  slie  is!  Coming! — 
Ruth ! — Coming!  " 

The  clock  was  striking  twelve.  Samuel  and  Lucy  felt 
for  his  pulse.  He  had  gone,  and  there  was  a  smile  on  his 
face. 

As  I  write,  the  little  book  of  poems  and  envelope  of 
scented  rose-dust  lie  on  the  desk  before  me. 


3  1970008100031 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


•UHMUIY  LOAMi 

1  0  1990 

LOA 


JUX  01  1995 


000  632  396     8 


